Appetite for Destruction
by Piloting Insanity
Summary: The War ended when Harry finally killed the Dark Lord. His reward? A cosy cell in Azkaban next to Bellatrix Lestrange. But a pact is made & during an escape, an accident puts them in another universe. Realising violence is the modus of survival, Harry fights to find his way in a world where enemies lurk in the shadows, trust is a scarce commodity & Death is just a heartbeat away...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowling's. This story is a work of fiction. Anything you recognise is JKR's, everything else is mine. No profit is being gained by this.**

**I thought I'd try my hand at another Harry/Bellatrix story and this is the product of my imagination. I know it's a little long but it's necessary and… expect future chapters to be similar lengths. However, updates will be few and far between, due to the length.**

**I have tried to tap into the basis of each character, letting their individual characteristics govern my writing. Bellatrix is a complicated character to write, especially when paired with someone like Harry. This is a predominantly adventure/drama story, though there will be some romance. **

**Anyway, this is it. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you do or don't. Criticism is welcome, but only if it's constructive. Spiteful flames are unnecessary. **

**UPDATE: The name and summary of this fic has been officially changed. This fic was formerly named 'Braveheart - The Wild Frontier.' To new and old readers alike, enjoy.**

**Appetite for Destruction**

**Prologue**

_"Every problem is an opportunity in disguise." - Unknown_

If there were to be such a thing as hell on Earth, Azkaban was it.

But then again, wasn't hell meant to be boiling hot, with flames everywhere?

Obviously, the usual rules didn't apply to Azkaban.

Azkaban was a bloody _freezing_ hell on Earth.

The stench of death and despair hung heavily in the air, lingering like a grey heavy fog on a wet winter's morning. A mournful wind whipped its way around the stone walls, bringing bone-chilling cold and bitterness from the Siberian wilderness with it. It settled in through the bars that doubled as windows, causing many a prisoner to huddle fearfully into the pitiful cloth that was called a blanket.

Black ocean waves slammed themselves repeatedly upon the rock, relentless in their quest to remove this foreign piece of land from their path, this alien intrusion of their world. The clouds swirled angrily in the sky, mirroring the colour of the sea, thunder emitting its deep, throaty rumble and lightning flashing a vivid, strongly contrasting white across the sky.

And added to this horrifying location, for the most dangerous occupants, were the Dementors. Cladded in overlarge, ripped black cloaks, they drifted down the dark corridors, bringing that awful bone-deep cold and the nightmarish presence with them. They patrolled the corridors that had the cells in which the greatest threats to Wizarding society would live for the remainder of their lives. Some of the Soulless lived here, as well as the long-gone insane.

It was within one of these cells that Harry Potter resided in.

It had been three long years since The Boy Who Lived had arrived as an occupant of one of the many cells of Azkaban.

Sickly green moss clung to the jagged stone walls and floor. Rust had made its mark upon the cold metal bars. Mildew and mould were scattered in small, threadbare patches on the floor, as well as the blanket. And sitting in the corner of his cell, picking absently at a flaking part of the wall with a fingernail, sat Harry Potter.

The tip of his tongue was poking out slightly from his mouth, his teeth clamped firmly upon it. Narrowed emerald eyes watched the nail at work, which was steadily scratching away. Wisps of dust spiralled towards the ground as a small chunk of stone fell, landing with a small _thud_ at Harry's foot. He ceased from his work, looking down at the small stone. Then he picked it up and brought it up to his eye. Squinting at it, he studied it closely.

"Still at it Potter?"

The harsh, raspy voice caused Harry's nose to twitch involuntarily, but other than that small movement, he gave no outward sign he had heard the voice. He continued with his studying, before setting the stone down carefully next to a tiny pile of others beside him. Then, giving an exasperated sigh, Harry continued with the scraping of the stone wall.

_ Scrape. Scrape. Scrape._

"Give it up Potter; you're never going to get out. You've been at this for almost three years now. Face it. You're stuck here."

Harry continued with his administrations for a few more seconds before answering.

"Forgive me if I haven't signed my life away just yet Bella. I was never one to give up so easily. Besides, look at my progress." he said sarcastically.

He turned his head towards Bellatrix Lestrange, his neighbour, momentarily to catch her facial expression before returning to his work, grinning. It amused him to no end to deliver barbs to Bellatrix. They were separated by a mixture of stone and bars, so it was possible for them to see and therefore, hold a visual conversation with one another. Or in their case for the past three years, insults. Currently, Bellatrix was leaning against the wall on the other side of her cell, sitting down.

"I haven't given up!" she hissed indignantly, infuriated by Harry's insinuations. "I'm just waiting until those brain-dead Aurors make a mass screw up, so I can break out! And my name is Bellatrix!"

Harry, smirking, was still working away when he answered her, his eyes narrowed and focused on a loosening chunk of rock.

"Oh. My mistake. I do apologise. Your lack of activity had me thinking that you were doing nothing. Obviously I was wrong. It was thinking that you were doing."

He paused, still scratching away. Bellatrix waited for him to continue.

"Well, _thinking_ didn't do you much good before. In fact, it got you sent here." Harry finished, gesturing around to the cell that he was in with his free hand. He waited for the furious reply that he knew would follow.

"Fuck you Potter!" Bellatrix snarled. "You ignored the rules of engagement! You cheated!"

"Never thought there were rules in war," was Harry's dry reply. "Old Tom never played by them, so I figured why should I? And if you hadn't of _thought _you could capture me singlehandedly, then you wouldn't have been caught yourself."

Bellatrix gave a scream of frustration and lapsed back into her silence. Harry was mildly surprised that Bellatrix hadn't berated him for the use of Voldemort's real name, but then again, she had renounced her allegiance to the Dark Lord after he was dead. Sort of. Sure, she was still a Death Eater and would answer him, but she just wasn't as... erm... _manically _devoted. For what reasons, Harry didn't know: all he knew was that the day he had called Bellatrix a filthy Death Eater she had blown up and had tried her level best to get through the bars that separated them and kill him. That had been the day Harry had arrived in Azkaban. On discovering that his neighbour was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, he had shouted and yelled every insult that he thought or knew would hurt her. As was expected from Bellatrix, she had responded in kind.

As verbal sparring matches went, they were evenly matched. Bellatrix had a venomous and wicked tongue, identical to her personality Harry had mused, and put them to full and effective use. Harry, on the other hand, just had the rather unique ability to aggravate anyone and anything, effortlessly getting under their skin. And like Bellatrix, he put it to great use.

After both had vented their pent-up emotions, Harry and Bellatrix had simply refused to talk to one another. However long had passed until one spoke to the other again, neither knew. But when they did, they had - for some unknown reason - decided to talk about their lives. Bellatrix had gone first, independent and arrogant that she was. After sending a baleful glare towards Harry, she had proceeded to explain her life right up until the point when she had taken part in the fourth battle of Hogsmeade. Bellatrix knew that she didn't have to continue, as did Harry, for it was he who had caught her during the battle.

Harry didn't and wouldn't feel guilty about that, but nonetheless they remained silent for half an hour afterwards. It was during that time that Harry had thought about what she had said about her life. It seemed all she wanted was to have power, to be noticed. Her family hadn't given it to her but the Dark Lord had offered it. So she had jumped at first chance. Voldemort had shown her power, shown her strength, and Bellatrix had revelled in it. Granted, the Dark Arts later on combined with an extended period in Azkaban had rendered her a little mentally unstable, but 'everyone has their faults, you included Potter,' she had stated with that ever-present Black haughtiness.

Harry couldn't have agreed more.

After a mix of empty threats and persistent questioning from Bellatrix, Harry had then gone on to explain how his life had taken a turn for the shit-heap and why he was in Azkaban. But as he had sensed that Bellatrix had omitted parts of it, or lightly skimmed over others, he decided to too. After all, they were enemies... in a sense.

Everything had been bearable up until his seventh year. Sure, Voldemort had made many more attempts on his life, but it was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing outrageous. The Order, at Sirius' demands, had made more of an effort to keep Harry safe. After the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic in his fifth year, in which Sirius had narrowly escaped with his life having stood so foolishly in front of the Veil, Dumbledore had decided to be more honest and open with Harry. The Headmaster had told Harry about the prophecy, about the meaning and the consequences. He had trained Harry for two years, teaching him magic that would be a great help in his inevitable battle with the Dark Lord. That was all Harry had told Bellatrix, and for the moment, she seemed content with the information that she'd received. Harry just let her assume he'd taken up his mantle for the war after he had left Hogwarts. But he knew that she knew that there was more. The way Harry had fought during the War, it wasn't an untrained fighter charging into battle; Harry had the signs of a highly efficient war machine stamped all over him, and Bellatrix knew it.

In reality, Harry had been trained for the war. Properly, with military style. After a small conference with Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody and the Minister of Magic who at the time was Amelia Bones, he decided to enrol himself with the Department of Mysteries as one of their Special Forces operatives. Although there were Aurors and there were Hit Wizards, neither group had actual training in all out warfare. The way Harry saw it, they were the police and SWAT of the Wizarding World; the Special Forces were the military.

Codenamed 'Delta forty-two', with identification number four-eight-seven-double 'O'-two-nine stamped onto his right forearm, he was but one of a significantly sized, highly trained force of warlocks. Harry was trained by the best of the best; current operatives, former ones, ex-Aurors and Hit Wizards - anyone that knew how to handle themselves and was a lethal opponent for the Death Eaters. Harry still had his training with Dumbledore but the bulk of it was within the bowels of the Departments of Mysteries. In short order, which was approximately two years, he had been changed. No longer was he just another killer, murderer of Death Eaters; he was an executioner. The Special Forces taught him the art of war and with it, how to dispatch an opponent quickly, effectively and with minimum fuss. Harry had also been shown how to combat multiple opponents and with the sadistic grin of his commanding officer, known as 'Sigma seven', he was encouraged to be creative in his work.

Harry still went out to the various battles whilst in training, for 'on the job experience' as it was put. Every time was better then the last, with Harry having more success than the previous outing. He quickly rose up through the ranks of the Special Forces, eventually stopping at Lieutenant Colonel, the highest rank he could achieve whilst still being able to go into battle. His reputation also rose, with tales of his courage, determination, skill and his nonexistent mercy reaching up to the upper echelons of both sides in the brutal war. Inevitably, Harry became the highest target on Voldemort's kill list, a threat perceived to be greater than Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic.

He also did extracurricular academic activities. Dumbledore had found out on Harry's sixth year that Voldemort had attempted to make himself immortal. He had split his soul and encased each portion within an object, known thereafter as a 'Horcrux'. The Headmaster had cleverly deduced what the rest of the Horcruxes were from the two he had already found, though whatever the last one was, Dumbledore couldn't work out. So, besides fighting the Death Eaters and occasionally Voldemort himself, Harry went Horcrux-hunting.

Five years and Merlin knew how many battles later, Harry succeeded in finding and destroying all of Voldemort's Horcruxes... all except one. That one unfortunately happened to be himself, which was found out by complete accident. So another year was spent by Harry trying to find a way to separate the Horcrux from his soul. Unfortunately, this was the same year Dumbledore had died.

It happened during the eleventh battle of London. Voldemort, growing desperate and erratic, had launched an all-out assault on London in a last ditch bid to take reclaim the Ministry of Magic. Throughout the war, possession of the Ministry had switched sides almost constantly, with one side winning it then losing it to the other a few months later. The Death Eaters had held it for the longest, for a grand total of fourteen months. But it was during the eleventh battle than the shit _really_ hit the fan.

_ Harry moved swiftly through the dust and dirt, a mask preventing the worst of it reaching his lungs. The stone and rubble crunched beneath his boots as he bounded over the remains of a Muggle governmental building. The sounds of the battle were still ringing in his ear; Dolohov sure was one tricky bugger to take down, but down he had gone. Harry reached a clearing where the smoke permitted him a glance towards the main fray. The forces of the Death Eater and the combined forces of the Aurors and the Order were locked in a ferocious duel. Harry spied a few of his friends and Dumbledore, as well as his SF team._

_ The Headmaster was currently battling what seemed to be twenty Death Eaters trying their upmost to kill him. Their efforts were largely unsuccessful. Dumbledore was a master duellist and Transfigurist and he was giving the Death Eaters a hard time with swarms of killer bees and molten metal. But Harry saw that Dumbledore was growing weary and tired and knew that if help didn't come, the old man would go down._

_ Pulling out his charmed medallion, a phoenix in flame with its claws grasping a wand and an axe, he called his commander._

_ "Sigma seven, Sigma seven, this is Delta forty-two, read me, repeat read me, over!"_

_ The line was silent for a second then the crackling static was heard, then a booming voice._

_ "Delta forty-two, this is Sigma seven. Whatever you've got lad, it better be fucking good!" it roared._

_ Harry gave a grin as he started to sprint towards Dumbledore._

_ "Dolohov is down. The building's a wreck, the Obliviators'll need to come in to wipe the Muggles' memories and Clean-Up to sort the mess. Anyway, Dumbledore needs assistance, permission granted yeah?"_

_ A snort was heard from the other end._

_ "Seems you've already made up your mind boy!" Sigma seven said. "I see you and the old man. Do what you must, and stay alive! No sloppiness either!"_

_ "Don't worry sir, I'll make you proud!" Harry replied, now only a short way from his target._

_ "Good lad!" Sigma seven yelled before the line went dead._

_ Harry pocketed his transmitter and shook his head at his boss' antics. Then gripping his wand more tightly, he Apparated into the fray. The sudden noise and appearance of Harry evidently startled the Death Eater that was closest to him. The unfortunate soul in question only had time to mouth 'Potter?' before his head exploded in a grey and red mist. Brains and blood sprayed in all directions, none landing on Harry as he was already moving onto the next Death Eater. _

_ A Killing Curse was sent his way but he rolled forward, flipping himself upright with his legs propelling him straight towards his target. Harry crashed into their legs, knocking them both to the ground. He knocked the wand from the Death Eater's hand and fired his own Killing Curse. Two down... eighteen to go._

_ Glancing round, he saw Dumbledore was still locked in mortal combat, unable to gain or lose the upper hand. He smirked; trust Dumbledore to get himself into this mess. Another curse of death narrowly missed Harry as he whirled around. Sidestepping the next, Harry levitated a jagged rock and lodged it into the skull of his opponent. He moved methodically, taking one Death Eater after the other. He burst open the chest of one. Ripped the heart from another. Transfigured a brave one into cow shit. Another had their head shoved through the body of his comrade._

_ At this point, Harry got near to Dumbledore, who was also duelling to kill. The Headmaster had learnt that the Death Eaters were not going to change their ways, and after Order members started to drop like novice Quidditch players off their brooms, he had agreed with the Ministry's decision to reinstate the kill-on-sight status of the Death Eaters. Harry watched as Dumbledore impressively pulled off a difficult manoeuvre, taking out three more Death Eaters. _

_ "Nice one Albus!" Harry yelled over the din of spellfire. "I never knew you had it in you!"_

_ "Harry my boy, it was always there. It was only used for difficult and necessary situations." Dumbledore replied calmly._

_ Harry snorted. "I suppose this is one of them?"_

_ "Indeed it would appear so." Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eye going full as he took down another Death Eater. "It would also appear to the more intelligent person that Tom hasn't realised that this more recent battle tactic of his is not working as well as he might have hoped."_

_ Harry snorted again but didn't reply. Using a little known curse, he gouged out the eyeballs of yet another Death Eater. Now there were only seven to go. He laughed when Dumbledore froze the ground beneath the feet of one and Disarmed them. That laugh became a snarl though when Harry heard a familiar voice._

_ "Avada Kedavra!"_

_ He swirled just in time to see the green light emitted from the wand and for him to move out of its path. Retaliating, Harry cast an exorbitantly forced Bone-Crusher. An arc of purple light spread out towards the Death Eater that attempted to kill him. They threw themselves to the floor, rolling to the left and firing off more curses as they did so. Harry split the skull of another assailant as he weaved to evade the spells, then produced a Banishing Charm. The charm caused the Death Eater's mask to fall off but Harry didn't need to see their face or black, curly hair to know who they were. The mad cackling voice that went with them was all he needed to hear._

_ "Afternoon Bella," Harry said with false cheeriness as he sent her own trademark Cruciatus back at her. "Lovely day for a war, wouldn't you agree?"_

_ "Quite so Potter," Bellatrix said just as sarcastically as she avoided the first and sent a second. "But please, call me Bellatrix."_

_ "As you wish." Harry smiled as he Apparated behind her. He brought up a smoke shield then Apparated again towards Dumbledore. Out of the Death Eaters, only Bellatrix and one other remained. Killing Curses surrounded the air around Harry and Dumbledore as they fought the remaining two. Harry launched a mixed spell barrage towards the unknown Death Eater, who promptly cast a quick blood shield to absorb it all. He fell dead to the floor however, when an orange spell passed through and cleaved his body open head to toe._

_ "Tut tut," Harry reprimanded the dead Death Eater. "If you're going to use a blood shield, at least do it properly."_

_ He turned back toward Dumbledore and Bellatrix to see the former struggling with a piece of Dark Magic and the latter firing a Killing Curse. Harry knew the magic that was affecting Dumbledore but he also knew the counter-curse took three seconds longer to complete than the time the Killing Curse would cover the distance. Dumbledore seemed to know this as well, as whilst he continued to struggle, he turned to Harry._

_ "Do it Harry. Please." he said._

_ Harry nodded. With a flick, he cast the spell._

_ "Avada Kedavra."_

_ The jet of green left his wand and struck his mentor and former Headmaster in the chest. Dumbledore collapsed to the ground just after Bellatrix's own curse hit his back. Harry felt nothing as he Summoned Dumbledore's wand and snapped it. Emotion was a concept that was foreign, alien and more importantly lacking to Harry as he began to duel Bellatrix._

Snapping Dumbledore's wand had been vital. Harry had been told by the Headmaster himself about the legend of the Deathly Hallows, and that the wand Dumbledore wielded was the wand from the legend, the Elder Wand. Dumbledore had requested that Harry kill him, so as to render the wand's immense power nullified and so that the temptation to others could never be there again. Besides, the thought of Voldemort actually possessing the wand was too horrible to contemplate.

After Dumbledore's death, things had gone slightly downhill for the Light Side. The morale of the Death Eaters had risen and even Voldemort had made more public appearances during the fight. The Dark Lord's schemes and plans had become bolder and bolder as well.

But all was not bad. Harry had found a way to remove the fragment of Voldemort's soul from his own, though the connection between the two somehow remained. With Voldemort as mortal as the next man, Harry had upped his game. More Death Eaters were killed and he personally sought out Voldemort when the Dark Lord made his appearance. The capture of Bellatrix, the supposed killer of Dumbledore, helped to elevate Harry to the status of the new Wizarding World's most powerful wizard. Eventually every town, every piece of land was reclaimed by the Light, with the last stand being held at the Dark Lord's stronghold: Riddle Manor.

The battle there had been the most brutal, most bloody and the most dangerous of the entirety of the war. More people died on the grounds and floors of Riddle Manor than all the battles in the history of the war. People were slaughtered like livestock, each side folding under the sheer force of the other. Death Eaters and Order members alike were felled, their deaths avenged by their comrades. And in the centre hall, Harry duelled the murderer of thousands, the evil that had tainted this world, and the man who had ruined his life - Lord Voldemort.

It was singularly the hardest duel Harry had ever fought. Dumbledore had once said that the knowledge of magic that Voldemort possessed was most probably more extensive than any other wizard or witch alive. He wasn't fucking wrong. Voldemort used so many Dark spells and shields Harry's magical senses were cringing under the pungent waves of it that warped the air. Unforgivables, ancient torture curses and curses and hexes Harry had no knowledge of were a part of immense arsenal of the greatest Dark Lord in the history of magic that were thrown Harry's way. His shields and counter-spells buckled and strained under the onslaught, protesting with high-pitched squeals and screeches as they were assaulted relentlessly. Harry had no idea how he had survived that, as there was no way he should have, but survive he did.

After a total of forty-five solid minutes of duelling, dodging and in general trying to make sure his arse wasn't blown to kingdom come, Harry was able to fight back. Spells and curses of the Light were thrown towards Voldemort, who brought up more Dark shields to protect himself. Harry pulled upon all if his resources, his knowledge to defeat Voldemort. Waves of Light raged against the tides of Darkness as each combatant battled for the win, to live, to escape the clutches of Death. Harry began to stop bringing up shields, opting instead to narrowly miss the curses sent his way. Dumbledore had speculated there were two things that could qualify for 'the power that the Dark Lord knew not': Love or the ability to accept Death. Harry wasn't sure which but he decided to put the latter to use. Maybe if he stopped defending himself he would win.

When a curse got too close for comfort in Harry's mind, he decided to bring out the weapon that Sigma seven, Dumbledore and the Chief Unspeakable had said to use only if necessary - the Love Shield. Dumbledore had told him once what the locked room in the Department of Mysteries was, after the battle there.

_ "There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the force of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you."_

So Harry had used it. Pouring all the love he felt for his friends, for his family, for the people he had lost into his mind, Harry had yelled the incantation and created the Love Shield. What happened after, he was unable to remember because the next thing he had seen had been the white ceiling of St Mungos' Hospital. Eventually he had been told that the force of whatever it was he had used had levelled the manor to rubble, killing Voldemort and almost killing himself. Voldemort's body had been found inside and so was his, though he was barely alive. He had been immediately been brought to the hospital for emergency treatment.

Harry had then stayed in hospital for two days, whilst the Healers made sure that he was fine and his injuries weren't grave. He was then discharged. Upon his leaving, Harry had been slightly surprised that he had a guard waiting to escort him to the Ministry. He was even more surprised when they got there, instead of being taken to the Department of Mysteries, he had been dragged up to the Auror office and was promptly charged with war crimes, including several accounts of murder, just as many uses of the Dark Arts and various other felonies, ranging from rape to looting. He had been stripped of his wand and thrown into a Ministry holding cell. Three nights later, he was formerly charged for his crimes, was given no chance to defend himself and was then chucked in Azkaban with the key thrown away. When he realised his neighbour was none other than Bellatrix, he had wondered what sadistic bitch or bastard depending on gender had put him next to her. Later on he had found out it was Umbridge and had mused that he should have killed the bitch when he had the chance.

But what really pissed him off was the fact that once again, once his job of saving the Wizarding World from whatever danger threatened it, once he had killed Voldemort and stopped the horror, the Wizarding World had decided that his usefulness had outlived it's purpose. He had, against his better judgement, expected a big welcome... or at least a thank you. Reading between the lines, Harry realised the reason they incarcerated him was because the Ministry knew he didn't like them and that they were frightened that he would incite a revolution against them. Also they feared his power - that figured. So the best option, for them that was, was to chuck Harry in Azkaban. After the war, Harry thought he'd be a hero for all he'd done and survived... well... if hell was meant for heroes, he sure had arrived.

"Potter? Potter? Potter! Pay attention!"

Bellatrix's harsh tones brought him back to Earth. Harry realised he had stopped scratching at the wall.

"What Bellatrix?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "What is it n-?"

The question perished on his lips when he felt the bone-deep cold seep into the room, its cold frozen fingers groping out harshly at him. Instantly Harry was on his feet and moving towards the back of his cell, Bellatrix's movements mirroring his own. He seized his blanket and flung it around his torso, praying with all his might that it would shield him from the cold, protect him from what was to come. But it was a futile and vain attempt, as he knew.

The familiar rattling breath was heard next, the chill become deeper and more pronounced. Harry screwed up his eyes tightly, pressing himself against the stone hard as if trying to burrow through it, pressing so hard it hurt. The temperature dropped further and further until the familiar memories came back, screaming inside of his head.

_ Flashes of bright light illuminated the landscape as Harry slid along the muddy ground. The rain fell mercilessly from the sky, torrential currents of water splashing everywhere, sweeping people and objects alike into the night. Lightning strikes lit up the ground momentarily, the only source of light except for the spells that were thrown between the two groups that were battling to kill, before plunging the area back into the suffocating darkness._

_ Harry ran with wild abandon, desperate in his attempt to reach those who mattered most, desperate not to hear the final cries of those he loved. He slipped on a wet patch, landing facedown onto the soggy grass. Groaning from the impact, Harry pushed himself back up, forcing himself to continue running. _

_ The next flash of lightning showed a lone, redheaded figure duelling two figures clad in black. But what caught his attention was the two that were laying in the dirt, covered in splattered mud and drenched from the rain, their hands inches from each other._

_ "NO!"_

_ The carnal cry was torn from his throat and Harry ran harder than he had ever run before. He ignored the pain in his legs, the stinging in his eyes, the only thing mattering being the thought that consumed his mind: get to them!_

_ Harry reached the area, bent double and retching. He spat out the excess saliva in his mouth and looked around. The night did not permit him to see; it cloaked the field in its black drapes, taunting him, preventing him from seeing if it were really true, that they were-_

_ "Lumos!" Harry croaked._

_ Light sparked into life at the end of his wand and as he moved it to cover the ground he saw them. The vivid ginger hair was unmistakable, as were the bushy haired curls. Harry collapsed to his knees as his hand reached out._

_ "Ron? Hermione?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper._

_ No answer was given, and Harry knew why - the glassy, vacant eyes and lack of movement brutally told him why, but his own brain seemed to rebel, to not accept what his very eyes were telling him._

_ "No! NO! Ron! Hermione! Guys, wake up! Goddammit wake up! WAKE UP!" Harry screamed, throwing his wand to one side and shaking their lifeless shoulders. "Oh Merlin no, no, please no, please Merlin, no..."_

_ And he cried. He brought their bodies together and hugged them to his chest and cried. It couldn't be, they couldn't be dead, they were so strong, so alive..._

_ Another scream caught his attention. Harry set his best friends' bodies down and snatched up his wand. He cast a bigger ball of light, making it float in the air. It showed two black figures, who were talking in hurried whispers over another red haired body, looking at him. Harry's eyes darted towards the body in front of them and his breath froze in his throat._

_ It was Ginny._

_ Disbelief clung to him for a second, numbing his mind and senses. He felt his jaw drop, his silent scream before rage banished everything else. They had killed his friends, had robbed them of the chance of life. And they would pay, they would pay-!_

The memory changed, ignoring Harry's whimperings, his pleas for it to end, to not see and relive his worst memories. Harry screamed aloud, his mingling with Bellatrix's and whoever else's that were in their floor.

_ Harry gasped, shuddering as he did so. The nails were sharp and they gently raked the sore, red raw skin of his chest. He flinched involuntarily, shying away from their caressing touch, trying to push himself back. But the straight back of the hard wooden chair that he was bound to stopped that._

_ "What's wrong Harry? Don't you like my touch? Does it hurt you?" a sugary, luscious voice breathed. Harry ignored it, keeping his head bowed and eyes shut. He could see the flickering light of the flame through his eyelids; he could hear the steady drip of the water from the ceiling hitting the block stone floor and walls. He refused to answer._

_ "Harry, do answer. It makes me ever so sad when you act so childishly." the voice said again, its tone soft, caring. Harry still refused to answer._

_ "Harry," the voice said again, this time sternly and Harry felt the breath of the person upon his neck, their mouth next to his ear. He flinched again. "This can all stop. The pain, the humiliation, the hurt... it can all disappear. Just tell me what the plans are."_

_ The nails pushed deeper into his chest, moving in small circles. Harry shook his head, unable to move anything else._

_ "Oh Harry, you _do_ make this difficult for yourself..." the voice whispered. Teeth nipped at his earlobe and lips brushed themselves against the skin of his neck, their administrations soft and tender. Harry groaned with longing despite himself, and found his traitorous body responding, pressing forward, desperate to have that touch, craving more. His mind struggled against itself, his own conscience at war._

_ "N-N-No." Harry said hoarsely. "No."_

_ The lips stopped their movements and the nails dug sharply into his skin. Harry gasped again. The person moved their head back and through the haze of pain, Harry saw the lustful face of Daphne Malfoy, formerly Greengrass. Her lips were swollen and parted slightly, her pupils dilated with needs of her own. She was looking at him with disbelief._

_ "Four months you have been here. Four months you have been a prisoner of the Dark Lord. Four months you have resisted torture and pain because you will not lower those damnable Occlumency shields of yours." she breathed. "You have had everything done to you, whether the method was Muggle or Magical, yet you still remain silent. Still you refuse to speak. I have to admit, whoever trained you against torture is very good. Very good indeed. Or... is it you Potter? Is it that iron will that you possess? Is that the thing that has kept you silent through four months of pain? Is that it? I know they call you the King of Pain... I think I understand why. But answer me Potter. Answer me."_

_ Harry kept silent throughout her speech, denying her the satisfaction of an answer. He stared at her, feeling the probe that was attempting to enter his impenetrable mind. Suddenly she lost her temper._

_ "Answer me Potter!" she hissed as she slapped him. Harry's head rolled with the blow but it still hurt nonetheless. As he righted himself, trying to ignore his stinging cheek, Daphne grasped his face painfully with her nails, drawing blood. She shook his head violently, as if rattling his brain would cause him to divulge the things which he knew must stay secret, hidden, no matter what happened, what the consequences were, whatever he suffered-_

_ "Answer me!" Daphne screamed. And she struck him repeatedly, smacking his face, slapping him so hard he thought his head would leave his neck. He took the blows, one after the other, until she finally stopped._

_ Blood trickled down his face from his nose, lips and the cut above his left eye. He saw that she was wearing a black silk gown, which had a plunging neckline that showed off her ample cleavage. The shape and size of her breasts were highlighted, as were the rest of the curves of her body, which the silk clung to like it was a second skin. He knew that she was trying to tempt him to give in, but he wouldn't, not even if his life depended on it..._

_ Suddenly she swooped down upon him, and her lips crashed painfully on his. She kissed him with a furious and raging passion, her tongue demanding entrance and Harry found himself unable to resist. He relented, he responded, groaning as she did as lust took over and piloted his actions. Daphne's hand groped his chest, eliciting hisses of pain from him, before it snaked downwards and inside the fabric of his jeans. Harry gasped with shock and pleasure as her cold hand grabbed his now-throbbing manhood and began to massage it. A still-sane part of his mind told him she was getting desperate now. Daphne's lips began to tenderly assault his neck, creating more deep groans of longing from within Harry's throat._

_ "Tell me what I want to know Harry," she muttered between her actions. "Tell me what the Order, the Ministry, your _precious _Death Squad are doing. Tell me what they are doing Harry..."_

_ Harry's back arched as Daphne gave a particularly hard and pleasurable tug on his nether regions. He slumped backwards into the chair again as she resumed the kissing of his lips. Eventually she paused and lent back slightly, before placing her forehead against his. Her breaths were frantic, ragged and lust-filled, as were his._

_ "Tell me Harry," Daphne repeated. "Tell me."_

_ Harry stared back at her, looking at the chocolate-brown orbs that were boring into his emerald ones._

_ "OK... alright...you win..." he said._

_ If the situation hadn't of been so dire, Harry would've laughed. Daphne's eyes widened so much that it was comical. It seemed that she involuntarily flicked her hand and she gazed at Harry imploringly. Her smile was wide, triumphant, like the cat that had got the cream not once, but twice._

_ "See, it wasn't that hard was it, Harry. Was it?" she cooed as she ran a shaky hand through his hair, while kissing him again. Her excitement was getting to Harry. "All this suffering, the pain, for nothing. Now, tell me everything. What do you want to say first?"_

_ Harry wondered if what he was going to do was worth the repercussions. He decided after a moment that it was and forced himself to look at his seductive torturess._

_ "Well... firstly, I'd like to say that you are a complete mug to believe I'd tell you anything. You are a stupid, air headed, fucking whorish bitch. Secondly, Voldemort is a half-blooded prick by the name of Tom Riddle. How does that make you feel, you pure-blooded bitch, that you serve a lowly half-blood like myself, hmm?" he said. And to finish it off he leant forward and violently kissed her lips._

_ Daphne stumbled backwards, and this time Harry did laugh for the look on her face was priceless. Then she slapped him. He continued to laugh, maniacally now, knowing it would raise her ire. His laughter died though, when she spoke._

_ "Draco," she began, lips curling into a vicious smile at Harry's sudden horrified look. "I believed Mr Potter requires some more persuasion."_

_ Harry whimpered and to his disgust his body trembled when a tall pale headed and equally pale faced man stepped out of the shadows. He now figured what the flick of Daphne's hand meant. Draco was holding a small box and his wand. Harry shuddered, tears of rage and fear falling from his eyes. Suddenly his head was wrenched upwards and he found himself once again staring at Daphne._

_ "Ah Harry, you never learn. But never mind, there's next time. Ciao darling." she said mockingly before kissing him again. She sauntered over to the door and opened it, giving him a little sensual wave before closing it and leaving. _

_ Harry turned his face towards Draco and he saw his own terror-filled face reflected in Draco's eyes. Harry cowered away when Draco raised the torture instrument he held in his hand, having retrieved it from the case._

_ "No, no, no," Harry whispered._

_ Pain exploded in his abdomen as Draco plunged the instrument into it and twisted it harshly. White spots of light covered Harry's vision as he screamed for help that would never come, for the mercy that did not exist. Then Draco stopped twisting and in his disoriented state, his head lolling in all directions, Harry saw Draco raise his wand, rage disfiguring his handsome looks, no doubt borne of Daphne's recent treatment of himself._

_ "Crucio!"_

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Potter! Stop screaming! Shut up! For Merlin's sake, shut up!" a voice from far, far away shouted.

Harry shivered uncontrollably as he raised his head a centimetre. The Dementors brought of the worst of his memories, memories of shame, pain and despair. He coughed, realising that the depressing cold was gone.

"Potter?! You there? Potter?" Bellatrix's voice said.

"Bella, that you?" Harry croaked.

Bellatrix's pain-lined face appeared behind one of the bars that doubled as part of the wall that separated them.

"Well duh, bonehead. Who else is your neighbour?"

Harry chuckled. Bellatrix looked outraged at his action.

"What the fuck are you laughing about Potter?!" she hissed, venom on every syllable. "We get a visit from the Dementors and you end up trying to scream Azkaban down - nice try by the way - and you sit here and laugh?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"Maybe I am Bella, maybe I've finally lost it." Harry said jokingly. Bellatrix snorted with disgust and retreated back into her corner. Harry hoisted himself up with his elbows and then hands. He moved back to the wall that had the small hole made by his scraping.

"You're shocking Potter. Fucking shocking." he heard Bellatrix mutter. Harry smiled slightly and went back to his task.

Not much happened for the rest of that day. Lunch came when the sun was overhead and Bellatrix and Harry hardly spoke. She fell asleep while Harry worked away. Hours passed before Harry heard something other than the scraping noise.

Hushed whispers and the sound of boots on loose rock caused Harry to snap his head towards the door. He ceased scraping and moved stealthily towards the metal contraption, straining to hear the voices.

"-they are needed today-"

"-evidence trial-?"

"-how long for, d'you reckon?"

The voices, male Harry identified now that he could hear them, became louder and clearer as they got closer. Harry bounded over to a set of bars in the wall between himself and Bellatrix. As he knelt there, he saw that she was still sleeping.

"Bellatrix? Bellatrix! Wake up! Wake up now!" he hissed.

Bellatrix shuffled and mumbled but remained asleep. Harry glanced towards the cell door, the voices very close now.

"Bellatrix!" Harry shouted as loud as he would dare. "Bellatrix, wake up now!"

Bellatrix opened up her bleary eyes and with an unfocused gaze looked at Harry.

"Piss off Potter, I'm sleeping, can't you see that..?" she muttered drowsily.

"Bellatrix, the Aurors are here." Harry said sharply.

Bellatrix's eyes snapped open.

"To re-etch the runes?" she asked in a whisper. There were runes that were re-etched once a day around Harry's cell in order to make sure he couldn't escape.

"I don't think so," Harry said, also with a whisper. "They mentioned an evidence trial and taking someone."

"Oh Merlin." Bellatrix murmured. They stared at each other for a moment before Bellatrix continued. "They're coming for us Potter. I know it. Just wait and see-"

Her sentence was cut off by the sound of jangling keys. Harry scrambled away from Bellatrix and stood up. He crouched low in a defensive position, muscles tensed. Long ago, when the effects on his body from Azkaban would not have been evident, Harry might have chanced a physical fight in order to escape. His magic was fine, but his ability to physically fight had somewhat diminished from a long time of inactivity. He heard the key enter the lock, and then someone muttered a few spells to undo enchantments that were on the door. Then the Aurors poured in.

There were easily six of them that went for Harry, probably just as many for Bellatrix as well. Harry vaguely heard Bellatrix screaming as he battled his own problems and grimly smiled. He landed a well-aimed punch at the jaw of one of the Aurors and in his mind did a victory dance. Harry's triumph was short-lived though as he was hit back and eventually subdued. One of the Aurors pulled out a pair of handcuffs but another waved him off.

"He's down, alright and he's gonna stay that way!" he said arrogantly.

Harry smiled through his pain. Mistake number one: they underestimated the enemy. However, unfortunately for Harry, they saw him smiling.

"What you laughing at Potter?" one snarled before a boot landed hard in Harry's side. Repeated kicks tore the air from his lungs as Harry struggled to breathe. The Aurors laughed harshly before hauling him up and chucking him roughly into the corridor. Harry's bones jarred on the impact and as he raised his head and groaned, he saw that Bellatrix was receiving the same treatment.

_ Well... at least they don't have favourites._

His gaze was however, attracted the the belt of one of the Aurors. Jutting out at an angle from which it could be grabbed, was the Auror's wand. A plan quickly formulated in Harry's mind. If he could just get the wand...

"All ready?" one of the Aurors grunted.

A chorus of 'yes'' answered him. Suddenly Harry and Bellatrix were wrenched to their feet and marched down the corridor. Harry noted the amount of Aurors with them as they left the bowels of Azkaban. The Auror with the jutting wand was in front of him. They moved through a winding passageway and it was at that moment Harry struck.

He launched himself at the Auror's legs, much like he had done to Death Eater in the eleventh battle of London. He and the Auror went down, and Harry batted the man's hands away has he tore the wand from the belt. Punching the Auror in the face, he spun round and yelled:

"_Stupefy!_"

The Auror that held the rear crumpled to the floor. Harry smirked, but was knocked forward by one of the other Aurors that heard the commotion. He hit the floor hard and the wand left his grip. Harry was spun round and found himself looking at a very angry Auror.

"Why you son of a bitch!" he roared.

Harry's fingers desperately scrambled for a weapon and they curled around a rough object. Holding it tightly, he thrust it towards the Auror's face.

The object turned out to be a jagged, sharp rock and it pierced the skin of the Auror's face and went through. Harry watched in morbid fascination as the tip pointed out from the man's head. He withdrew his arms and watched the phase of death, the mad twitching of the limbs and frantic scrambles before the Auror laid still and died. He whirled around.

The other Aurors were dead, after having Bellatrix slit their throats with a knife. He looked at her curiously.

"Where did you get that?" Harry asked.

"On the side of his trouser leg," Bellatrix replied coolly, gesturing to another dead Auror to her left. "Much cleaner and easier than a rock Potter."

Harry looked towards the dead Auror's leg and saw that there was indeed a knife sheath.

"Didn't see that," he noted as he stripped the remaining bodies of weapons.

"That would be because I am a woman and you a man." Bellatrix said arrogantly.

"And what's that meant to mean?" asked a nonplussed Harry.

Bellatrix sighed with frustration. "Never mind. Let's get our wands."

Harry stopped walking.

"Wait a minute. _Our_ wands? Firstly, since when are we working together, and secondly, our wands are here?"

Bellatrix spun round angrily.

"Yes Potter, our wands are here. They don't destroy them until we're dead. And to answer your first question, as much as we hate each other's guts, I don't think we'll get off this fucking island unless we work together. What say you?"

Harry didn't answer, instead choosing to nod. Bellatrix did so as well and together they moved down the corridors of Azkaban. They met a few Dementors and guards along the way, but they were either warded off with Harry's Patronus or killed respectively. Eventually, they got to the guard office and stepped inside.

"Well someone lives a cushy life," Harry remarked as he stared around at the elaborate furnishings.

"Pay attention Potter, we're not here to inspect the decor!" Bellatrix said in an agitated voice.

Harry listened and went over to her. She was standing by another door that had a simple plaque. It read 'Wand Room'.

"I suppose this is it." said Harry.

"Guess so." said Bellatrix.

She pushed open the door and they went inside. Harry saw that the boxes were labelled alphabetically by surname and went straight for 'P'. Passing 'Pastor' and 'Perin', he came across 'Potter'. Hesitantly, he pulled the box out, opened it up and looked inside.

It looked the exact same it had done when it was taken from him three years ago. Ivory-white and not a trace of dust on it, Harry's wand sat there patiently, waiting for it's master to take full command of it once more. Harry reached in very slowly. His fingertips hovered above the magical wood before they picked it up and held fast. A sudden and expected warmth rushed through Harry's body as he felt his magic respond to the wand that was his own. Pure joy coursed through his veins as he felt the ebb and flow of the magic within him, just as a sudden memory came to mind.

_ Apprehension clawed at his mind as he walked the cobbled street. He wasn't particularly fond of doing this, but he knew he had to. If he didn't, he'd be weaponless..._

_ He reached the dusty old door and looked up. It looked exactly the same it had done when he had first come here when he came here twelve years ago. Sighing, he pushed open the door. As he entered, the bell above the door gave a little chime, and the shop owner came scurrying out._

_ "Mr Potter!" they said with wide eyes. "My, what a surprise! Eleven inches of holly, phoenix tail feather core, nice and supple, wasn't it?"_

_ Harry smiled sadly as he closed the door._

_ "Yes it was Mr Ollivander, yes it was."_

_ Ollivander's grey eyes widened slightly._

_ "Was, Mr Potter?" he asked hesitantly._

_ Harry nodded. He stepped forward and from a pouch that hung around his neck, he withdrew his broken wand. The phoenix feather was intact, undamaged, but the holly wood was split and cracked. He handed it over to the trembling hands of the wandmaker._

_ "The core is still there, intact I think..." Harry said._

_ Ollivander looked at the wand with horrified eyes._

_ "My dear boy, how- how-" he choked. _

_ "Voldemort." Harry stated, and for once he was glad that whoever heard the name didn't flinch. "His was slightly damaged, but it can be fixed, that I know... but mine-"_

_ "-is broken beyond repair I'm afraid Mr Potter." Ollivander finished._

_ Harry stayed silent, watching the elderly wandmaker._

_ "Is it possible, sir," Harry began. "To transfer the same core to a different wood? For example, to this?"_

_ And from within his jacket pocket Harry pulled out a picture of a carved stick of ivory-white wood. Mr Ollivander recognised it immediately._

_ "That's aspen Mr Potter. Combined with a phoenix tail feather, it makes for a very temperamental wand. Extremely - no, dangerously - volatile, I would say. It would also be an incredibly powerful wand Mr Potter. They only way the volatile effects would be negated would be if a thestral hair and a certain potion-"_

_ "Such as this, sir?" Harry interrupted, pulling a thin white thestral hair from his jacket pocket and a book. He laid the hair upon the counter and flicked the book open, searching for a specific page. When he found it he showed it to Ollivander._

_ "And this potion, sir?" he added._

_ Ollivander was gaping at Harry in shock. He switched his gaze between Harry, the hair and the book._

_ "H-H-How?"_

_ "Never mind how, Mr Ollivander." Harry said. "All I want to know is, can it be done?"_

_ "The ingredients needed- tracked- no way possible-" Ollivander spluttered._

_ "Sir?" Harry said sharply._

_ Ollivander swallowed and nodded._

_ "Yes, yes of course, it can be done, but it will take time, a full lunar month in fact." he answered. _

_ "A full month?" Harry repeated in disbelief._

_ Ollivander nodded again._

_ "A full lunar month Mr Potter. The potion required is a tricky, sensitive, archaic one of highly dubious quality. I believe it's only been tried once before."_

_ Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He weighed up his options. He would be without a wand, a decent wand, for a month. But at the end of it, he'd have an extremely powerful one. Harry made up his mind._

_ "Do it. And here's your payment and the rest of the ingredients." Harry said, reaching into his pocket once more and taking the rest of the contents out. Ollivander gasped again._

_ "My dear boy, do you realise-?" _

_ "Yes, which is why I have given you more than sufficient payment," Harry said with a bite of impatience. "Now please, sir, make the wand."_

_ "Yes, yes, of course," Ollivander muttered._

_ "I shall see you in one month." Harry said before walking out of the store._

_ One month came and went, and Harry came back to Ollivander's on the final day. He walked inside only to see the tired, weary, exhaustion-lined but triumphant face of the shop owner._

_ "Well?" Harry asked expectedly._

_ Ollivander smiled._

_ "It could be, quite possibly, the greatest wand I have ever created. This, Mr Potter, was deviously tricky to make. Twelve and one hundred and twenty five inches in length, reasonably supple, with a fused core containing the phoenix tail feather of your previous wand and the thestral hair. Both were marinated for an entire lunar month in a potion that among the ingredients contained Dementor's blood, mermaid tears, basilisk venom, phoenix tears, ground unicorn horn, ground dragon scales, dragon blood, acromantula venom and finally your own blood. I think that because your own blood was added it will mean that the wand will bond with you and you only, Mr Potter. Even if lost in a duel or misplaced, just Summon it back and I think it will follow. Also, the core is sealed inside a silver vial filled with mercury, which in turn is sealed inside the onyx-lined bone of a long-forgotten, ancient, but extremely powerful beast from the Amazonian jungles in South America, although the bone, remarkably, was found at the bottom of a frozen lake in the Canadian Wilderness. This is necessary to ensure the power of the wand does not destroy itself or the owner."_

_ The wandmaker reached behind his desk and withdrew a longish case. He opened it up and handed it Harry._

_ "There we go," he said._

_ Harry looked down. It was white, pure white it seemed and ornately carved. Not exquisitely but it did have some flair. A wide handle tapered down to a thin end that looked very sharp. Harry reached in and picked it up._

_ The rush of power radiating from the wand was almost addictive. Harry gaped as red, gold and black sparks emitted from the end of his wand tip. He waved it once and muttered "Protego!"._

_ An enormous shield issued from the end of his wand, slightly blinding as it shimmered. Harry turned to Ollivander, who was looking on in wonder._

_ "Thank you sir." he said._

_ "It was my pleasure Mr Potter I assure you, my pleasure..." Ollivander said._

_ The two men shook hands and after Harry pocketed the wand once he'd cancelled the Shield Charm, Harry left._

Harry smiled fondly at the wand he had acquired when he was twenty-two. It had indeed been a most powerful wand and judging from the sensation of power running off of it, it still was. He transfigured his prison clothing into a shirt and jeans, and turned a couple of rocks into boots. Pulling them on, he turned around to find Bellatrix, only to find a wand tip directed between his eyes. Immediately he batted it away and brought up his own, thrusting it under Bellatrix's chin just as she repointed it at his chest.

"And what the fuck was that about?" he asked anger seeping into his voice.

"We're escaping Potter, I need to know if I can trust you!" she remarked.

Harry scoffed. "Trust me? And I trust you? We're practically mortal enemies Bella!"

"Mortal enemies that have been next to each other for three years!"

"Oh, and that makes it OK does it? Just 'cause we've been stuck here and talked for a while about how fucked up our lives are?"

"No, but how else are we to get off here hmm? We need each other to survive Potter, whether you like it or not!" Bellatrix retorted.

Harry stayed silent and watched Bellatrix. Then he noticed something he hadn't before in all the time he knew her..

"Your eyes... they're violet." he muttered.

"What?" Bellatrix snapped, nonplussed.

"I said your eyes are violet." Harry said slightly louder, blushing slightly.

"And?" Bellatrix's voice held traces of amusement.

"I never noticed before." Harry said, looking away

Bellatrix sighed. She grabbed the front of his shirt. "Look Potter, are we going to work together to get off this island or not?"

"It makes sense to," Harry said. "But what about afterwards?"

"Perhaps an oath will put your mind at ease?" Bellatrix asked.

"Fine."

Both said their respective oaths and then Harry looked at Bellatrix.

"Time to go." he said. They left the room and moved quickly down the stairway. They passed countless prisoners and many a time they spotted groups of Aurors running around.

"Looking for us most probably." Bellatrix whispered. "After all, we are high-profile and supposedly dangerous murderers with absolutely no regard for human life whatsoever."

"Speak for yourself," Harry answered back, earning himself a punch from Bellatrix that hurt a little bit.

They had just got up to the entrance when they were seen by a group of Aurors.

"Oi! Halt!" a voice shouted.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw an Auror with a raised wand running towards them.

"Bugger!" he cursed. He turned to Bellatrix. "Move! We've got company!"

The two escaped prisoners sprinted down towards the enormous oak double doors that were the entrance to Azkaban. They had almost made it when the all too familiar bone-chilling cold settled upon them. Harry felt the stirrings of the horrors that were memories which resided deep within his mind surface once more. Looking towards Bellatrix, he saw that she was suffering under the oncoming Dementors' effects as well. He searched for the Aurors and saw that they were advancing, triumph in their eyes. Harry screwed up his own and made one last-ditch effort to save Bellatrix and himself.

"_Expecto Pantronum!_"

The enormous silver stag erupted from the end of the aspen wand and charged towards the Dementors. It's bright light momentarily blinded the Aurors, giving Harry a split second advantage.

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted again and again.

Beams of red light were hurled towards the Aurors as Harry stumbled along, dragging a weak Bellatrix with him. It was only when he looked down that he noticed that she'd been Stunned. Snarling with rage, he picked her up bodily and threw her over his shoulder, somehow still holding the Aurors at bay.

"Bloody hell woman, cut me some slack!" he groaned under her weight. Once again, he cast another round of Stunners and for good measure a few Dark Curses, then with great exertion, he shoved open the prison doors.

Sea spray hit Harry's face immediately as he stumbled outside, struggling to hold Bellatrix and himself upright. He reached a huge boulder and placed Bellatrix behind it, spells and curses whizzing past his head.

"Don't move," he muttered jokingly to her unconscious form.

Turning back, Harry let loose on the Aurors. They crumpled under his assault and eventually he forced them back. He was a trained military product, a Wizarding soldier; three years in Azkaban was admittedly bad, but his magical fitness levels and reflexes had remained as good as ever. Training in the cell did that. They were Aurors, lazy ones, who probably spent their time drinking alcohol, hiring prostitutes and gambling, rather than doing their tasks. Though with all that, Harry couldn't deny that their spellwork was only slightly shabby. He killed a few and forced the rest to retreat. Sprinting back to Bellatrix, he raised his wand and shouted: "_Accio Broom!_"

The wind howled in his ear and the sea smashed against the base of the rock that Azkaban sat on, but Harry strained his hearing to catch the sound of a nearing broom...

He ducked just in time before it clubbed itself around his head. By this time, due to the lack of spellfire coming their way, a few Aurors ventured outside. Harry didn't see them until the Killing Cause headed his way.

"Fucking hell!" he yelped as a jet of green too close for his comfort took chunks out of a piece of boulder. He retaliated, sending his own back with venom causing a few of the Aurors to drop like puppets whose strings had been cut. Their comrades took the not-so-subtle hint and beat a hasty retreat. Moving quickly now, Harry dragged Bellatrix onto the back of the broom (which he noted to his disgust was a Cleansweep Five) and cast a Sticking Charm on her and the broom to ensure she stayed on. Mounting it himself, Harry did one last cursory check of his surroundings before kicking off the ground and flying into the stormy air.

Storm clouds cloaked Harry and Bellatrix, rumbling angrily. Harry narrowed his eyes and urged the broom onwards and to go faster. Flashes of lightning flooded the sky with light every once in a while, and Harry had more than a few close shaves. The atmosphere was wetter than a well-paid whore and the rain soaked the both of them as Harry flew as far from Azkaban as was permitted by the broom.

After some time flying and frowning suddenly, Harry realised he needed to know which way was north so he knew what direction Britain was in. Pulling out his wand, he muttered the Point Me Spell. Unfortunately for Harry, his lack of concentration on his flying direction that was instead directed towards the spinning wand caused him to not see his one way crash course straight on into a lightening bolt. It struck the broom as it was touched and the occupants. Frozen in place by the huge amounts of electricity, Harry felt pain, excruciating pain briefly before the magic of the spell reacted with the bolt. A bright flash of light mixed with the light of the bolt, causing it to look as if it had a bulge in the middle, before he and Bellatrix disappeared. The splintered remains of the broom fell down towards the raging currents of the North Sea, never to be found.

* * *

The kitchen of the Potter household was what it usually was on a weekday. The smell of fried eggs and cooked sausages wafted through the air, complemented by the equally strong odours of toasted bread and jam. Lily Potter worked away at the bread with the toaster, while her husband, James Potter, busied himself with the eggs.

"A little longer, I think," James stated.

Lily turned around to face him, butter knife in hand.

"James, they should take five minutes, not five seconds."

She glared at her husband until he caved in.

"Okay, okay, so I used a Heating Charm, what difference does it make?" James confessed, hands raised.

"The difference between learning to cook and not being lazy!" Lily said indignantly waving the knife at him. "Besides, it tastes better when done properly!"

James looked thoughtful for a second.

"Now that you come to mention it, your cooking always tastes better than mine." he mused.

"Because I don't cheat!" Lily said, bringing a plate stacked with toast to the table.

James shrugged before going back to the eggs and sausages. Lily shook her head and sighed. Sometimes, her husband was insufferable. She had just set the plate down on the table when another person, a young male, entered the room.

"Morn'ng," he stated groggily before yawning widely. He then went to the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice.

"Morning Eric." Lily said, smiling fondly at her son. Eric gave his mother a thumbs up before ripping open the juice carton and downing the contents in one.

"Morning son," James said distractedly, frowning at the frying pan's contents. Eric threw the carton in the bin and turned to his mother.

"Is Dad cooking again?" he whispered.

Lily smiled. "Yes."

Eric pulled a face. "I think I'll stay with toast today."

Suddenly there was a loud _thump _and mother and son turned around to face James. He was rubbing his head which he seemed to have hit on the cupboard.

"Ouch!" James moaned, holding his head. "I heard that!"

Lily smiled whilst Eric laughed.

"Well, it's true Dad. Your cooking's terrible." Eric said.

"Yeah, well, at least it's edible." James retorted.

Eric flushed and mumbled something about a 'stupid cooker'. James grinned triumphantly.

"Stop teasing him James!" Lily scolded. James stopped teasing his son but still grinned.

Bringing the pan over, he tipped eggs and sausages onto everyone's plate. The three sat down and began to eat. James picked up the newspaper that had been delivered earlier. He went straight for the sports section.

"Oh, damn! The Magpies won their last game!" he muttered.

"You owe Uncle Sirius five galleons then." Eric reminded him through a mouthful of toast.

"I know," James said before flicking to the stocks. "It's the fifth lot I've lost to him."

"Maybe you should stop betting then," Lily suggested.

"And lose face?" James looked outraged at the very idea, but both Eric and Lily could tell it was a mock. "Never."

Lily muttered something that sounded a lot like 'male pride' before picking up her own magazine. Eric smiled before going back to his toast, still against the eggs.

"Eric," Lily said suddenly. "Did you call your sister?"

"Which one?"

"Chloe, seeing as Gemma's always at work."

"Mum, she's twenty-two; she can get out of bed herself."

"I'm just asking-"

"CHLOE! GET YOUR ARSE OUTTA BED NOW!" Eric yelled.

"Eric!" Lily exclaimed. "How dare you use that sort of language under this roof!"

Eric rolled his eyes.

"Have a go at dad, Mum, he taught it to me."

Lily rounded on James, who flinched slightly.

"Cheers Eric," James said with a false cherry voice. "Really nice of you."

Eric winked. "I think I'll be going now…"

"Oh no you don't, you're just as bad as your father, no matter if you're sixteen and you're going to stay here and tell me exactly why-"

James interrupted her. "Lily, shush."

Lily looked outraged.

"How can you tell me to shush when you've-?"

James waved her off. "That's not important now. What is is that I've just felt an internal breach in the wards."

Lily's face went from red with anger to white with fear. Abruptly she stood up and grabbed her wand off the side counter. James drew his from his pocket and also stood up.

"Eric, stay here." James commanded.

"Oh no, uh uh, I'm coming too," Eric said, mirroring his parents' movements.

"Eric, listen to your father, he's an Auror and knows what he is doing." Lily said.

"Yeah? And Dad also always says that extra wands are useful. So I'm coming." Eric argued back. James opened his mouth but then closed.

"Got me there," he said softly. "Fine, you can come with us, but Floo Sirius first."

"Gotcha." Eric said, before leaving the room.

"James, what's going on?" Lily asked.

"Someone is here who shouldn't be, and we're going to find-" James began, moving out of the kitchen, his wife following him.

Suddenly, a scream sounded out. A terrified, genuinely scared scream, but most importantly for James and Lily, it was one they recognised.

"Oh Merlin above," Lily breathed, her hands clapped to her mouth. "That's Chloe."

Both parents bolted up the stairs towards their daughter.

* * *

Chloe Potter walked down the stairs of Potter Manor in Cornwall. Getting up later than she wanted to was not doing anything to better her mood, as today she was finishing her Auror training period. Finally, she would be able to work with her father as an Auror, something she and her twin had always dreamed of.

At the thought of her twin, she felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. It always brought up painful memories, memories of disbelief and hurt. Chloe grimaced and moved on, forcing the memories of happier days to the back of her mind. The scar on her abdomen was tingling again.

As she walked down the stairs from the third floor, she saw the pictures that had remained on the wall since they had been put their. The Potter family were together and laughing, having fun. It was so simple back then, so easy. And why, why did her twin have to change?

Her eyes drifted towards the moving picture that held the Potter children. There was Gemma, who at twenty-three was very intelligent and had a very respectable and prestigious job in the Department of Mysteries. Gemma spent much of her time there, rarely coming home except to sleep and even then waking up early to get to work. She resembled their mother the most; flaming red hair, same facial structure, height build, but with her father's hazel eyes,

Next to Gemma was Eric. The youngest at sixteen and the most mischievous, Eric had definitely inherited his father's genes for pranking. But Eric had a softer, caring side which Chloe knew came from their mother. Eric was an odd one, in that he had dark ginger hair and blue eyes, curtsey of their grandfather, Charlus Potter.

Then there was her twin. Harry Potter. As tall as her, with the same black hair and green eyes, they had been as close as close could get. Harry had been a charmer, a ladies man, with flyaway hair, roguish looks and a scampish personality to match. He had been a rascal since the day he was born, according to their parents. Their father had been proud of that fact, as Harry was a mirror image of himself but with Lily's eyes.

Chloe herself was similar. A feminine version of Harry, the boys at Hogwarts had all fancied her, whatever the house they were in. At twenty-two years old, she was tall, slim, as well as athletic. Not as athletic as some, but enough to get attention, desirable or not. She and her twin were similar in many ways, whether in appearance or character, and they prided themselves on it. They had been as close as siblings could get, always having the other's back and looking out for one another. They could even sense the other's presence, an attribute they shared with their friends and counterparts, the Weasley Twins. But one day, that all changed.

Chloe felt the tears in her eyes as she remembered it. She would never have guessed it would happen. Although Harry could be brooding and moody, with a vicious streak when angry, she never would have thought that her beloved brother, her twin, would have left her for the other side.

When they were both in their third year at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had told them both of a prophecy, one which predicted the demise of the Dark Lord. At first stunned, they both had demanded to know who the subject was. Dumbledore had told them; Harry or Neville Longbottom. Unfortunately, it wasn't long after that that they found out Voldemort was deciding who the subject was as well, as it turned out the Dark Lord knew the full prophecy too.

Chloe shivered. Voldemort had so much power; the majority of Europe was under his grasp bar Spain, Holland and Belgium. But even they would fall to the Dark Lord's empire soon. Maybe that's why Harry joined him, because he wanted power… Chloe shook her head. No. Harry joined because he was evil. Because he didn't care about them. About her. Chloe remembered her mother telling her when she was in her fifth year that Harry had left them and become a member of the Dark Lord's ranks.

Shocked at first, Chloe had refused to believe her parents. She screamed, cried and protested. Chloe had eventually hardened herself to it. As did the rest of the family. Especially when she heard what her twin had been doing.

It had started off with minor things. A part of a sabotage task. A raid. Another raid. Then Harry began killing. Very quickly, his body count rose, as did his reputation, and he became the most feared and deadliest of all of Voldemort's Death Eaters. It wasn't long before he was promoted to become a Knight of Walpurgis, and then Voldemort's second-in-command, answering directly to the Dark Lord himself. Chloe once heard that it was Harry who single-handedly took over the city of Dijon in France. She felt disgust and shame that she could be related to someone so evil and vile.

But it soon came to an end. When Harry and she were nineteen, they had taken part in a battle on England's Channel shores. As there wasn't enough Hitwizards nor Aurors to keep the Dark forces at bay, trainees were called in. It was in that battle Chloe had duelled her brother. It was also in that battle that she received the permanent scar that crossed her abdomen, given to her from her brother. Shock had taken her and she almost died, if it weren't for the fact that her and formerly Harry's mutual friends, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom had stepped in. They too suffered injuries at Harry's hand and eventually, her twin was downed by Dumbledore. Not long after that, the Death Eaters retreated.

Chloe had then spent the next two weeks in St Mungos and when she was discharged, was immediately taken to the Ministry for questioning about Harry. She had duly answered all questions, with her father present, and had found out that his wand had been destroyed. She had then found out that Harry was due to be given the Dementor's Kiss. Terror had filled her; as much as she loathed and hated her twin, her brother, she still loved him for he was family.

But nothing could be done. She and the rest of her family along with Dumbledore and some others from the Order and Ministry had gone down to the Trial Chamber. What she saw shocked her.

Harry was bound and shackled to a wooden chair, unable to move but able to speak. And when he saw his family, he had said one thing.

"I hate you."

Those words had broken Chloe's heart but still she didn't want her brother to lose his soul, his essence. But she had to watch as the black demon that was a Dementor swooped down and sucked what was her twin out through his mouth. She hadn't puked at first but afterwards she did. After the horror of watching that, she felt the connection she had always shared with Harry die, gone forever. Harry had slumped backwards into his chair, eyes vacant, gaze unfocused, virtually dead to the world.

Afterwards she had been told she had to be restrained as she had screamed and made to run to her brother. But nothing could have been done.

Three years had hardened her to the pain, yet sometimes she felt twinges of it now and then. Chloe raised a trembling hand and gently stroked the photo of her twin. It wasn't like he wasn't close in body. After the soul had disappeared from him, Dumbledore had placed Harry's body into a magical coma and had put it into a glass coffin-like box which was placed in a sort of memorial room. Harry's old bedroom had stayed the way it had been when he had left, as Lily had insisted that everything there stay the way it was when Harry had left.

As for the rest of the family, they loathed what Harry had become. Her mother seemed to be the only one who still grieved openly about the loss of their family member. Chloe did so, but in private. Losing someone as close as how Harry had been was difficult.

She sighed but moved down the stairs, hearing her other brother calling out obnoxiously to her then smiled as she heard her mother begin to chastise him. Eric could be a complete idiot sometimes.

Then she felt it. The connection. It felt different, as though it wasn't as strong as before, as if it was slipping and sliding away but it was definitely there. There was no doubt about it. She felt… felt… _him_.

Chloe drew her wand and ran down the stairs. Taking two at a time, she arrived at the second floor and bounded down the corridor. Then she arrived at the door. It was open.

She swallowed. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. He was gone. Gone, gone, gone. And it was foolish to believe otherwise.

Slowly, Chloe walked towards the door. She gently held the handle and pushed it open, with her wand raised. The carpet muffled her footsteps as she stepped inside, her gaze darting around from object to object. Then she saw it.

The glass coffin-like box was shattered. Shards of glass littered the floor, scattered in all directions. But most importantly, more important than anything else, was that he was gone. Harry's comatose body was gone.

Anxiety and hysteria seized her. The implications of Harry returning were horrendous. The Dark Lord's most vile, most devoted Knight returning to his full form… Chloe shuddered. A small part of her brain told her that it couldn't be true because Harry lost his soul. He was gone, far worse than dead.

She moved round the room, her wandtip alight to enable her to see into the darkest corners. She searched every part of the room methodically, looking for any sign that would give her dark-haired sibling away…

_ Snap._

Chloe whirled around, her wand pointed towards the door. Harry wasn't in here, and if he wasn't here he must be outside…

_ Mum. Dad. Eric._

Chloe hurled herself towards the door, not caring about the glass pieces that threatened to embed themselves in her shoes. She sprinted toward it, throwing the ajar door out of her way, and ran towards the stairs. Panting and doubled-over with a sudden, inexplicable stitch, she saw no-one. The voices of her parents had ceased.

_ Snap._

Chloe froze. The noise had come from behind her. Standing up straight and proud, she masked her fear and turned round.

An unfamiliar wand was held in a familiar hand, and it was pointed towards her face. The arm that held it was trembling ever-so-slightly but the face was unreadable, determined, his emotions no doubt concealed by Occlumency shields. The messy black hair made her breath catch in her throat as did the green eyes. She frowned at the unfamiliar lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. Suddenly, Chloe felt lightheaded and sick. He was back. Harry was alive.

As she levelled her own wand at her twin, he spoke. It was a harsh sound, grating and guttural. She saw that Harry looked confused and befuddled before the emotion got locked away behind the Occlumency shields once more.

"Who the fuck are you, and where the fuck am I?" Harry growled.

Then fear gripped Chloe in its iron grasp and she opened her mouth and screamed.


	2. Different World

**Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowling's. This story is a work of fiction. Anything you recognise is JKR's, everything else is mine. No profit is being gained by this.**

**The next chapter is here. I apologise most profusely for this late update. I have had a few issues over the last month that have required almost all of my attention, and thus left me very little time to write. However, as you can see, I have managed to complete this one.**

**I would like to thank all those that have reviewed, as well as those who have put this story onto their alerts and favourites. Your continued support and views have inspired me to keep going.**

**So, to the story. Harry wakes up in a strange place, as does Bellatrix. They both discover disturbing things. Although to some of you, their actions may seem stupid or unintelligent, as could be said for their thinking and reasoning, I must say that this is how the everyday person would react. I have asked around and done my research. Stress, anger and confusion can make people do strange things. I would know. More about the Harry from this world will be revealed, on how he became Voldemort's second.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy what you read. Reviews are received gratefully, as is criticism. However, spiteful flames are unnecessary. Enjoy.**

**Appetite for Destruction**

**Chapter One: Different World**

'_If you eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."_

_\- Sherlock Holmes_

A soldier. A military man. That's what Harry Potter was. The harsh and necessary training that he'd endured in his beginning as a Department of Mysteries operative had hardened him to everything. He was immune to the horrors of war, the suffering, the pain, both physically and mentally. It was this that had enabled him to survive five whole months of torture at the hands of the Draco and Daphne Malfoy. He was, in short, capable of shouldering any burden. Fear had been stamped out of him. He didn't fear anything.

All except for one thing.

Ever since his childhood, Harry had had an irrational fear of small spaces. The life he had lived in the cupboard under the stairs had made sure of that, as did the incident when Dudley had locked him the closet in the spare bedroom. Harry remembered it vividly. Seven hours trapped vertically unable to move in a small, stuffy space had mentally tortured him. Then he had been found by his aunt who had promptly scolded him for hiding, made him weed the garden as a punishment and then go to bed in the cupboard under the stairs with no dinner.

So when Harry found himself lying on his back in some sort of a coffin, he panicked.

He thrashed and he screamed but it seemed that no-one could hear him. Harry kept up at this for a while until he couldn't any more. Tears of despair rolled their way down his cheek and his breath was harsh and ragged. This had to be some sort of sick stunt that the Ministry had pulled; they probably knew about him trying to escape, though how, Harry did not know. Harry suddenly remembered Bellatrix and gasped. They would have got her too! If she ever got out, Bellatrix would kill him for getting captured! Harry groaned and was surprised that he felt sorry for Bellatrix. He groaned again, wondering how he could escape this awful predicament. He lay there, silently suffering, until he could think reasonably.

Harry focused upon himself. It seemed that he was wearing a shirt and trousers of some kind, but in the pitch-black darkness he couldn't make out what. Then he realised that he had a wand. It was in his hand.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief; he wasn't helpless, he wasn't defeated. He had hope yet. Harry chuckled as he thought about the idiot that had left him with a weapon. Twitching the wand he muttered:

"_Lumos!_"

Light sparked to life at the wandtip and Harry smiled; now things were looking up. Drying his eyes with a sleeve, he now saw he was wearing a black shirt and trousers, not his Azkaban rags nor the clothes he had Transfigured them into. Harry raised the wand slightly and discovered that he was in a see-through coffin like box.

_ 'Glass, most probably, so they can see me like some animal on display in a zoo.'_ he mused.

The glass presented a problem. Obviously he had to get out but Harry didn't want to end up smashing it. There was a fair chance he'd end up injured. His fingers skirted along the edges of the box, finding nothing but seamless joins. Not one dent or nook that he could use as leverage to get himself out.

Harry smiled. He had to. He also had to give it to whoever put him; they had done a very good job on making sure that he was sealed inside. But they had foolishly left him with his wand. That made him think two things: firstly, they didn't know he had one and so presumed he didn't as well… or secondly, they were incredibly stupid or sure of themselves that no matter what he did, Harry would not break out of the box. Well, it was time to put the theory to the test.

Harry rapped the ivory-white wand on his head and muttered the Shield Charm. It was a necessary precaution, one that should keep him from both the effects of the spell he would cast and the glass. Screwing up his eyes, Harry went for it.

"_Reducto!_"

The ringing sound of smashing glass vibrated out into the air. The glass was promptly blown into thousands of shards, which rained down on Harry once gravity caught up with their temporary flight in the air. Harry instinctively raised his arms to shield his face as they fell like jagged bullets. Eventually, the soft tinkling ceased completely and Harry took his arms away from his head.

The way was clear. Harry sat up and raised his wand again. The glass was gone and he was free. He swung his legs over the side of the table and tentatively walked. He was in some sort of room. The box he had been in was on top of an altar-like table. Aside from that single feature, the rest of the room was completely empty. Light filtered in in tiny amounts through a narrow slit in the ceiling.

Harry turned slowly on the spot, taking in the entire area. It didn't look like a prison or somewhere where a prisoner would be kept. It looked more like a… tomb. A memorial. That thought made him uneasy.

Deciding that there was no immediate threat present, Harry gripped his wand and prepared the Apparate away. He concentrated on the street that his apartment was on and spun.

Nothing happened.

Harry tried again. The familiar heaviness of Anti-Apparition Wards was evident as Harry ceased trying. Someone was trying to keep him in.

Immediately he ran to the door and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge.

"Fucking open!" Harry growled.

Harry heaved against the door once more and it opened at his wrench. Pleased with his progress, Harry shut the door behind him before moving out into the corridor. It was spacious and luxurious. A thick carpet smothered the floor and light danced in through the windows.

_ 'Not the residence of a typical Dark Lord,' _Harry mused. '_Most probably a Ministry employee.'_

He walked down the corridor a little bit more, surveying the surroundings. It was decorated very nicely. Not to his taste, but whoever decorated it obviously had an eye for the very best and a lot of money.

Harry was brought out of his musings however, when he heard the sound of running feet. Thinking quickly, he dived behind a large ornamental vase and watched, his wand raised. A female, as tall as himself and topped with black hair, sprinted into the room he had just vacated.

_ So, they do have someone on standby and I am in some sort of prison. Terrific._

Moving slowly, Harry inched his way forwards, his feet padding softly against the thick carpet. At that moment, the bones in his leg clicked, causing a loud _snap_ to ring out.

_ Shit_.

The sound of running feet happened again and Harry threw himself into the blind spot behind the door so the girl couldn't see him. He saw that she was bent over from her exertion and breathing hard. Her wand was out and she was shaking slightly. He moved out slightly, aiming to Stun the girl.

His leg clicked again.

_ Shit. Oh, shit_.

But instead of turning around and immediately cursing him, the person froze. Harry raised his wand and held it steadily. Slowly, the girl rose and as she did, she revolved on the spot.

Harry almost dropped his wand in shock. The girl, no – _woman_ – he was looking at seemed to be a feminised version of himself. She had the same eyes, the same hair, the same facial bone structure. She held herself readily, calmly, but Harry saw the uninhibited shock that adorned her face.

_Auror. Only they act in this way in a situation like this. Hit Wizard: would have attacked me by now. SF operative: I'd be battling for my life._

Harry suddenly felt angry, felt a deep rage surfacing from within.

"Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?" he demanded.

The woman looked at him blankly for a moment before she opened her mouth and screamed. Harry grimaced; he could never stomach emotional women.

"_Shut up!_" he hissed.

A Silencing Spell escaped from the tip off his wand, and flew towards the woman. Harry arched an eyebrow when she brought up her wand and deflected the spell. It was an Auror's move, so his original belief that she was an Auror was confirmed.

His musing on the situation was cut short, however, when the woman sent three separate Stunning Spells his way, aiming to send him to the land of Nod. Harry's Special Forces training kicked in and he ducked, propelling himself forward with his feet. Moving under the spells, he flicked a couple of his own harmless ones, before rising to his feet again. Looking at her, he saw that the woman had moved back to avoid him and his spells, again using shields to defend herself.

Constant drilling with his military training had given Harry a severe dislike for shields. Mobility and manoeuvrability were the key in a war and by default, duels, so Harry viewed shields as the things that held you static. Harry only used them when completely necessary.

Keeping that in mind, Harry snapped of two more Stunners before moving into his own personal arsenal. Unfortunately, he did not have his other weapons with him but he knew where they were and how to get them. Pressing forward, Harry was relentless as he bombarded the witch in front of him, who was clearly struggling to hold herself together in her attempt to survive his assault. He was not aiming to kill, only to neutralise; but she seemed to shield his every spell.

Another swish of the wand caused a huge gust of wind to surge down the hallway. The woman gave a small cry and immediately ducked down to the floor to prevent being compromised. But Harry was equal to that; a small Explosion Curse and then a Disarming Charm disorientated her and relieved her of her wand. But although she was confused and seemingly weaponless, Harry advanced cautiously.

It was a good thing that he did. Harry expected the sudden move and bent under the spell that was cast from the now-not-concealed second wand. Stepping in front of the woman, he grabbed her wrist and bent it. She gave a gasp of pain and then the wand slid from her involuntarily opened hand. Two Banishing Charms sent her wands in one direction and the owner in another. She landed with a _thump_ and groaned.

"Now," Harry began, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Let's start again, shall we? _Who are you?_"

The woman looked at him with tear-filled confused eyes and gasped:

"How are you here?"

Harry looked at her confused.

"What?"

"H-How are y-y-you alive?" she repeated, her voice cracking.

Harry continued to look at her with the same confused look, uncomprehending. How was he here? Well, duh, how would he know and besides, it wasn't by his own personal decision. After all, it wasn't exactly the most ideal way to wake up surrounded in what was quite literally your greatest fear. Harry looked at her closely; he was incredibly good at Occlumency but his Legilimency was an area that needed much improvement. He saw that her eyes widened when she realised what he was about to do.

"_Legilimens!_"

Images flew through Harry's eyes as he dived into the witch's memories. A laughing child was being tickled by its mother whilst the other looked on. They seemed vaguely familiar. The scene changed and Harry saw two siblings, evidently twins, laughing and cheering with others who seemed to be their Dad and sister. Harry moved round and spied a red-haired woman holding a small ginger-haired baby. The mother was shockingly familiar. The memory changed again and Harry felt the fear that the owner of this memory felt. He saw that she was duelling another person, and as he looked on, Harry recognised the black hair and green eyes; only the scar was missing. It was as if he was looking in the mirror…

_ No… no… it can't be…_

The memory continued and Harry saw a weird version of himself cast an extremely Dark curse at the woman whose memories he was viewing. She writhed on the floor, her abdomen ruptured and gushing blood… and Harry saw the dreaded black tattoo that adorned his doppelganger's arm…

_ No! No! No!_

Abruptly, he pulled himself from the woman's mind and fell backwards against the wall. He reviewed that last scene again. He was a Death Eater, a killer. He glanced over at the witch and saw that she was shivering, not from cold but from fear. Harry felt disgusted, contaminated.

_That was you. You. You did those things. You cursed her. _A voice in the back of his head said.

_No it wasn't. You don't remember being a Death Eater. When did you harm innocents, hmm? You were never a Death Eater! _said a stronger voice.

'_That's right,_' thought Harry. '_That's right, I was never a Death Eater, I was never a killer, I was never-'_

A question that popped up in his mind froze him. If he was sure he wasn't a Death Eater, then would there be the Mark? Slowly, Harry reached over to the sleeve that covered his left forearm and gently drew it back-

"_STAY AWAY FROM HER!_"

Harry jumped violently and leapt to his feet in a shock. Instantly he saw the wand that was pointed at him and the spell that was fired.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Harry dodged the jet of green in a rage.

_Oh yeah, let's use Unforgivable Curses, because they're the answer to everything._

Harry flicked his wand and a stream of multi-coloured curses flew from the end and smashed themselves against the shield that the unknown assailant brought up. But Harry didn't let up on his advantage. Pressing forward, he unleashed a barrage of hexes that fought against the magic of the shields which were repeatedly brought up. In a case like this, Harry wasn't going to criticise his opponent for shield use; he would've done the same. But the way they were used once again made Harry sure he was fighting an Auror. No, scratch that - definitely an Auror.

A blinding pain in his side signalled the arrival of another opponent. Snarling with anger, Harry flung his arms out so he stood in a weird star-shape, a shield shimmering in front of him. He identified the jinxes and the curses which splashed themselves against it, creating a sort of beautiful rainbow-ish pattern. Some were deadly, others were not.

'_I need my weapons and equipment_,' Harry thought as he held the shield._ 'And I need them soon. How the fuck am I going to get it though? The Ministry's a bloody fortress!'_

Then Harry heard a different type of voice: an echoing one.

_Do not waste time… Offense is the best form of defence… Win this battle…_

Feeling that whoever he was fighting had had more than enough time to try and kill him, Harry obeyed the voice. He snapped his arms to his sides and jabbed his wand forward.

"_Etideincepium!"_

The leftover spells were flung towards the people who directed them. Harry smirked with satisfaction as he heard the startled gasps and cries that came from the other end of the corridor. Using the slight advantage that he had, Harry bounded over to where he knew the woman from earlier laid. Finding her, he grabbed her hair, which elicited a small scream, and hauled her towards the centre of the floor. He pressed the tip of his wand roughly into her throat. Facing his attackers, he waited.

Then he saw them.

Tall, dark-haired and well-built, Harry understood why people said he looked a lot like his father. However, at the present moment, James Potter's face was contorted with a mixture of rage, shock, fear and worry. His wand looked as though it was going to duel Harry again until he saw who Harry was holding. He was old, probably in his early forties and he was wearing his bed clothes. Harry's gaze turned to the person next to him.

With red hair and those green eyes, Harry also knew why people said he had his mother's eyes. And he also understood why his father had fancied her. She wasn't as tall as her husband, but she held herself with an air of pride and the sense that she knew who she was. Her face was etched with fear, disbelief and - dare he believe it? - relief?

But they couldn't be! His parents were dead! Someone had to be Polyjuicing them! Harry felt a different kind of emotion stir up inside him at that – hatred. How dare they use the identities of his parents. How fucking dare they. His emotions must have broken through his Occlumency shields for he saw that whoever was in front of him, because they sure weren't his parents, recoiled. Harry quickly schooled his features to be neutral.

A tense few seconds went by before someone spoke.

"H-H-How?" the lookalike of Lily breathed.

"What?" Harry countered.

Both of the impostors' faces went blank with confusion for a second.

"How are you here?" the James impostor snapped.

"How the hell should I know?" Harry growled. He was tired with receiving no answers, being ignored. He was tired and angry and confused, and in no mood to be fucked around with. Harry knew in different circumstances that he would be thinking about this rationally, but after the stunt with the small space and then the trying to kill him part, he wasn't thinking straight. Someone had gone out of their way to torment him and that seriously pissed him off. Besides, if they cared about the woman he held, who was whimpering and trying not to move, they would answer.

"She's your daughter, right?" he asked them. The woman whose hair he held resembled his parents and himself greatly. Harry just presumed she was someone who was used for the part of confusing him. Yes, that had to be it. That would explain the fake memories. It was all part of a plot to disorientate _him_. Didn't the Aurors in Azkaban say he was in for an evidence trial? That was it! They were confusing him.

Two vigorous nods from the fakes of his parents answered his questions.

"Then if you love her, you'll let me go."

"No." the lookalike of James said.

"James, you can't-" the lookalike of his mother pleaded.

"NO!" James exploded. "I don't care if he is my son by blood, as far as I'm concerned he's no son of mine-"

"You got that right. But my question still hasn't been answered and your daughter is still here." Harry interrupted.

His mother – _no, lookalike!_ – looked at him like he was mad. Harry saw that tears were in his eyes.

"How are you here? You – you – had that _thing_ Kiss you." she said. "Don't you recognise us?"

Harry snorted.

"Sure I do. You two are Polyjuices of my parents and as for this bitch... well," he continued, gesturing to the woman who was still whimpering. "I have no idea who she is."

Lily gasped and James looked horrified for a second before his anger reappeared.

"Bullshit." James said. "You know full well who she is."

"Yeah, good one," Harry said laughing. The Lily-lookalike looked mortified. "You aren't even my parents."

"Of course we are-" Lily began.

"_My parents are dead!_" Harry suddenly exploded. His wand emitted red sparks and the witch gave a cry of pain. James raised his wand threateningly but Harry jabbed the tip of his harder into the woman's throat.

"Try me." he growled.

"Harry…" the copy of his mother said softly. "Harry… what happened to you? What do you mean we're dead?"

"I never said that." Harry said shortly. "I said _my parents_ were dead, not you. You aren't my parents."

Just then, a voice sounded from behind Harry.

"Mum! Dad! I Flooed to Uncle Siri-"

Harry whirled around and saw a teenage boy, with blue eyes and ginger hair stop dead in his tracks. Horror and fear were the expressions his face made.

"Y-Y-You…"

Harry didn't have time to understand the situation as he felt the spell behind him. He dropped the woman he held and rolled backwards, avoiding the Stunner from James' wand. The ginger-haired boy brought up a weak shield to stop it, and Harry moved.

Unfortunately, his bargaining chip that was the woman had been Summoned by her mother, as was the ginger kid. James let loose another set of spells and Harry rolled again, avoiding them; they left scorch marks in the wall.

"_Paralysio!_" he snarled. The spell met one of James' head on and caused a massive _BOOM_ to sound out. Dropping to the floor, then crawling to the nearest wall and finding an enormous vase which he used as cover, Harry waited until the dust and ringing in his ears stopped before rising, arm taunt and ready.

The other people stood huddled together opposite him; Lily held the woman and the ginger boy tightly, whilst James stood in front of them all, wand also at the ready. His lip was bleeding.

"You dare…" James breathed.

"Yes, I dare, because you do," Harry interrupted. "You aren't my parents. As for those two-"

"Don't mention them!" James said angrily.

"James-" Lily said.

"NO! He has no right to mention Eric or Chloe, none whatsoever-"

"James, he's a boy-" Lily pleaded with her husband.

"_HE'S A DEATH EATER! A KNIGHT OF WALPURGIS!_" James roared.

"A Death Eater?" repeated Harry incredulously, not understanding the last bit. "Oh that's rich. I thought her - Chloe, right?- well, her memories were faked and used to confuse me. But it seems that you're all in the loop.

Well, let's sort this out. To be a Death Eater, you have to have a Dark Mark, which I don't ha-"

Harry stopped talking abruptly as he ripped up his left sleeve. Staring up at him, faded, but there, was the ugly black tattoo that was called the Dark Mark. He stared at it in disbelief; it couldn't true, you had to take that thing willingly to have it and there was no way he would've-

Then it hit Harry; this was still part of the ploy to trick him! His rage increased.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" he yelled.

Harry fired off two Stunners before letting loose a whole host of nasties, most of which James admirably held back. Lily screamed and hid her children. James cancelled the shield he had cast after the curses had been dispelled and launched a Cutting Curse at Harry. The man in question wasn't fast enough and the curse caught him in the arm. Harry gave a cry of pain as the spell sliced through his arm like a hot knife through butter and he immediately felt it go limp. Throwing his wand to his left hand, he only brought up a shield in time for James' Banishing Charm to smash into it. Harry, who was weakened, losing blood and confused, only managed to hold it for a measly two seconds before it crumpled. Though the brunt of the force of the charm had been dealt with by the shield, the resulting force was still strong enough to blast Harry off of his feet and send him crashing down the corridor. His wand left his wand as he landed heavily on his damaged arm.

"Ah-Ah-Ah!" he cried.

The pain was too great and it was fogging his judgement, but nevertheless, he crawled painfully slowly to where his wand lay. Every movement was a drain upon his energy and it sent shootings of agony through his shoulder. He was almost near it when a hand reached down, picked it up and placed it in a pocket. Harry groaned.

Then the person bent down and Harry found himself staring at the surprised, gleeful and hate-filled face of James Potter.

"It's funny," James said softly. "Three years ago, you always came close to killing me. Now, you can't duel me at all."

James laughed.

"So this is it. How did you do it Harry? Hmm? I mean, that's some genius piece of magic…"

"If you're talking about the c... c... coffin thingy..."

"I am-"

"-Then I have no bloody idea what you're talking about."

"Bullshit."

Harry closed his eyes and looked away. He had to focus, he could do it, just concentrate…

"Nothing more to say?" James asked. "Well, if that's it, I guess I'll alert Dumbledore, then the Ministry-"

But Harry wasn't listening. His left hand was behind his back and his eyes were screwed up with concentration. James probably though it was the pain. He could taste the blood that was slowly soaking the carpet, could acutely feel the pain flaring in his arm-

_There._

Harry's fingers on his left hand closed around the object that suddenly appeared there. The object was very familiar. Harry almost smiled at the thought of showing James up, but stopped himself; he had to keep up this pretence.

"Lily," he heard James call. "Take Eric and Chloe to the kitchen, make sure Chloe's alright then send an owl to Dumbledore. I'm sure that Sirius will alert the Ministry when he gets his letter."

"Are you sure?" Lily answered. "I mean-" and Harry presumed she was talking about him. He prepared himself to strike.

"Don't worry," James assured her. "I'll be fine, trust m-"

And Harry struck.

A Banishing Charm was thrown at an unprepared James, who was promptly thrown down the length of the hallway, before landing in a crumpled heap in front of the rest of his family. They screamed and James got to his feet, looking furious.

"Why you-!" he began, but then he choked.

Harry had got to his feet, swaying slightly. Groaning, he used his left arm, to stem the flow of blood from his mangled arm. Then he siphoned the excess of, leaving a red-raw gaping cut. Groaning again, the Potter family watched as the eldest child muttered some unknown spell and a flash of purple emitted from the tip of the wand. A horribly loud cracking sound filled the room and they saw Harry flexing his newly repaired arm, testing that it was in order. Then he turned back to James.

"H-H-How?" James stuttered, gesturing to Harry's wand whilst checking his own pockets.

"Secrets, dear father of mine." Harry grinned. "Ask no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."

"But that's impossible!" James spluttered. "I took your wand!"

"And I have it now." Harry said calmly. "And once again, you are between I and my way out."

And with those words Harry raised his wand.

"I can't duel you, you say. Well, that would be the case if you were insanely powerful. However, you are not. I guess that means nothing to you, but to me it means a great deal. It means this."

Harry slashed the wand and a white light fled from it. James seemed to recognise the spell because he Summoned one of the vases and used that to deflect the oncoming spell. Ceramic shards promptly exploded in all directions and scratched the wall.

Harry moved forward, not caring for the flying projectiles. He saw the doppelganger of his father look at him with wide eyes. Harry watched as he turned to Lily.

"Get them out of here now!"

Lily didn't argue and hurried her children from the corridor towards the stairs. But Eric was having different ideas. He broke free from his mother's grasp and turned to Harry.

"_Confringo!_"

The Blasting Charm sped towards Harry. Everyone watched as until the last possible moment, Harry brandished the wand like a whip and the charm fragmented, the little pieces of spells flying in all directions. Lily Summoned Eric back to her, not bothering to chastise him as she saw her husband conjure shield after shield to protect himself and his family from Harry's onslaught. She quickly took her children to cover.

Harry knew, however, that his father's lookalike was in trouble. He was having difficulty in holding back his attacks and Harry wasn't in any mood to give up anytime soon. After what his supposed father had said and done to him, James deserved to suffer a bit.

Harry sent a few Stunners then a Bone-Crushing Curse at his father. James shielded the Stunners and dodged the curse, before Transfiguring the debris that littered the once-clean carpet into a swarm of killer bees. They launched themselves at Harry, who had Summoned the wrecked door off of it's hinges and smashed the bees to smithereens with that. Not letting up, he Transfigured the entire lot into a steel ram which he then Banished towards James.

Harry saw his opponent's eyes widen at his spell choice.

"How?!" James shouted. "There is no way you can Transfigure like that. It's your weakest point; you're crap at Transfiguration!"

Thinking fast, the elder wizard conjured a blue shield, which the ram met head on. As soon as the metal made contact with the shield, it turned into water. Harry saw his father grit his teeth as he held the shield with everything he had, water sploshing down from the sides of the shield.

Eventually, the ram ended and James cancelled the shield in time to see a huge fireball flying towards him. Harry watched as he quickly gathered up the water and held it together in a sphere.

Steam erupted in the middle where flame met liquid and each combatant mentally urged their element to win. Harry looked towards James and saw that he was stepping backwards slightly, as he was forcing him backwards. Harry could only guess that James was mentally screaming at Harry, for it seemed that he was trying his upmost to hold the relentless flames at bay. Harry pressed onwards, smirking at the sight of his the fake James looking back towards the stairs he was being forced towards.

Unexpectedly, Harry cancelled the flames and sent three separate spells at James, who cancelled them with ease after dispersing the water. Harry smirked again when he saw James' surprised face, before comprehension replaced it as he realised it was a ploy to move his concentration elsewhere; he then drew three crude runic patterns with the flaming tip of his wand. Smirking silently at James' horrified expression, for he knew what they were, Harry muttered another spell.

"_Incarcerous!_"

Black ropes sprung out and wrapped themselves around James' arms. Surprised, James watched helplessly as one of the ropes ripped his wand from his grasp and Harry went to mutter another spell. But then he heard a voice which made them both freeze.

"Prongs? Prongs, you there? Prongs?"

Then from the stairway emerged the tense and nervous form of Sirius Black.

Harry was floored. His godfather had been killed during the third battle of Dublin, dubbed commonly as the 'Battle in which the Paddy's whacked Death Eater arse'. He had died at the hands of Voldemort himself. There was no way Sirius could be alive. But then Harry realised. This was still part of the trick; they were trying to play mind games on him again.

And as Sirius moved into the hallway, Harry's mind went numb with shock and his wand arm dropped.

He saw Sirius look at him. His godfather said one word.

"Bollocks."

Then a Stunning Spell left Sirius' wand and headed towards Harry. Harry stood there, unable to move or think through shock, watching as the spell that would take him to the arms of Morpheus came closer.

Then, suddenly, his arm came up out of nowhere on pure reflex, acting on autopilot, repelling the spell and sending his own back. And as it did so, Harry heard the echoing voice in his head.

_Focus... Concentrate... Do not let them win..._

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Harry obeyed the unknown voice, sidestepping the curse James sent at him and ducking Sirius' one. He reminded himself that Sirius wasn't really Sirius. It was false.

Sirius responded with a few lethal curses, though the majority of what he gave Harry was aimed to neutralise, not to kill. James was a different matter. Harry's supposed father gave no quarter as he tried his upmost to down Harry. Harry noticed that they worked as a team, a highly efficient team. Knowing that James was an Auror made Harry believe that Sirius was too. That theory was confirmed later when Sirius used a shield to deflect one of James' rebounding curses towards Harry. Harry dodged it and flicked his wand. A red light streamed towards the floor, snaking it's way towards his assailants. Sirius must have recognised it for he yelled at James:

"Move!"

James did so, casting a Hovering Charm onto himself as he mirrored Sirius' movements. However, that left the pair in the path of Harry's overpowered Banishing Charm. Both were hit and thrown backwards, but were immediately on their feet and fighting back.

As he sent back numerous Cutting Curses towards his opponents, Harry got a look at the fake Sirius. Keeping his rage at the audacity of these people in check, he noticed that this Sirius looked nothing like the one he knew. The face was fuller and rounder, adorned with the boyish mischievousness that had been present all through his teenage years. But that face was contorted with rage and hate as Harry battled his godfather.

Another Stunner had a near miss; it flew by at inches from Harry's head and at that moment he had a revelation. The pieces of the jigsaw that tormented his brain fell into place. The oddities now made sense. It had to be true.

Deciding that he needed to leave wherever he was now, Harry threw heavy Dark curses at his father and godfather before casting the Smoke Shield.

"_Fumus Nebulae!_"

Thick, black smoke issued from the tip of his wand and covered the passageway. Harry seized his advantage and blundered through, seeking James. Casting a spell he knew that would penetrate the darkness, Harry found James. This part of the plan banked on the Potter head wearing his family ring. As lack would have it, James was. Harry smiled as he Disarmed and Stunned James, before grabbing the unconscious man's hand and tapping his wand to the metal. He grinned again when he felt the Anti-Apparition Wards lift. Wasting no more time, Harry Apparated out.

* * *

_ The Aurors were casting spells left, right and centre, and were unbiased in their spell choice. Killing Curses were mixed with Stunners as they flew towards Bellatrix, and though she would not admit it, she was scared._

_ "Bugger!" muttered a voice from behind her. Looking back, Bellatrix saw her fellow escapee, Harry Potter, ducking as another curse slammed into the wall behind him, forcing him to stumble slightly as he ran towards her. _

_ "Move!" Harry said, face set and determined. "We've got company!"_

_ Normally Bellatrix would have detested being told what to do, and as such would have given whoever it was a healthy dose of the Cruciatus Curse, but the severity of the situation caused her to override her rage and follow her survival instinct, and thus follow Harry's orders._

_ Dodging another spell, she whipped up a shield and repelled the Organ-Busting Curse sent towards her, firing off two Unforgivable Curses as she did so. Side-stepping a Stunner, she gave a grin of triumph before her eyesight was suddenly clouded by red. Her last comprehensible thought was "Shit." before the world went black._

Bellatrix sat up abruptly and gasping. She grasped her throat as her eyes grew accustomed to the suffocating darkness that surrounded her. The dream had been so real, so _there_. Then she realised; it wasn't a dream - it was a memory.

_Potter! I'll kill you!_

Bellatrix was fuming. How had that little brat got her Stunned? A rational part of her brain told her it wasn't his fault, but at that moment with a headache that sounded and felt like a brass drum orchestra inside her head, she wanted someone to blame.

Bellatrix shifted slightly and groaned with the appearance of a sudden pain. It flared around her entire body and she had to lie back down.

_Great. Potter, if I find you, I will kill you._

But as she laid there, Bellatrix became aware of something that was poking her in the chest. Looking down, she saw her wand pointed towards her, the tip of it in between her breasts. Then she noticed something else that was equally as odd; she was lying in a _very_ luxurious bed, a four poster to be exact, with all the added extras. The duvet was plump and fresh, and the mattress was at a perfect firmness.

Bellatrix frowned. This most definitely wasn't Azkaban nor a Ministry cell. So, it therefore had to be somewhere someone had taken her...

_Potter. Again. I swear, I will kill that idiot!_

Mentally shouting expletives so rude they would melt the ears off of a brass hippogriff, Bellatrix gritted her teeth together and heaved herself upwards. She bit her lip to stop the scream of pain escaping her mouth, before reaching for her wand. She muttered a few spells and they eased the pain slightly, enough for her to be encouraged to explore this unfamiliar environment.

Looking down, Bellatrix saw she was wearing a black nightgown. She quickly surmised that she would have to find other clothes. Throwing open the decorated hanging curtains, Bellatrix almost immediately brought up her hands to shield her eyes from the blinding sunlight that was streaming in through the window. She raised her wand:

"_Obscuro!_"

The window became tinted and the glaring light died. Bellatrix sighed and lowered herself off of the bed. Unfortunately the pain was still there and she ended up hobbling over to the mahogany wardrobe that she had found very hard to miss as it dominated the entire left wall. As she made her way over, she also noticed the little things in the room; the ostentatiously plush carpet, the tasteful décor that consisted of the wallpaper and the ceiling ornaments.

Bellatrix gave a small grin as she noticed various articles of clothing that were strewn around the room, including lingerie and a few dresses, as well as some male items which were unfamiliar. She frowned as she neared to a pair of trousers that were black in colour, even more so when she realised that the wardrobe and the chest of drawers had been emptied of the contents and that they had been scattered around the room. Someone had deliberately flung them everywhere.

She reached the wardrobe, and sorted through the remaining mess. Finding a black dress that was slightly revealing but would do, Bellatrix made her painful journey back to the bed and got dressed. She felt slightly better and therefore decided to make her way to the bathroom.

However, Bellatrix had the shock of her life when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Gone were the ravaged and demented looks Azkaban had left her with. The beauty, which she had possessed when young had all but been stripped away by years in that hellhole, had returned. Her eyes were no longer dull, but a blazing violet. Her lips were full and plump, her hair long and luscious, lying in thick curls. Her wasted body had filled out, giving her the curves that had adorned her body once more. In short, Bellatrix looked exactly like she had done when she was in her early twenties, before she had been sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Bellatrix stared at herself more a while longer in amazement. Something was going on here, something very wrong. This didn't just happen - she very highly doubted Potter or the Ministry would cater to her needs with such efficiency as this. The Ministry viewed her as the insane right-hand of the Darkest of Dark Lords in a long time who was responsible for some of the most atrocious of crimes during the war, so she could be with them. As for Potter... well... Bellatrix had absolutely no idea what Potter thought. Ever since she had known him, he had kept those infernal Occlumency shields up perpetually.

Even so, neither would treat her with this much... respect. Thinking rapidly, Bellatrix took her wand in her hand and moved towards the door. It was the sole means of finding out what she wanted to know; where she was. To do that, Bellatrix had to go outside.

But as she went to open the door, Bellatrix noticed something very odd: a number of extremely complex and intricate Locking Charms had been cast upon what seemed to be every inch of the door. Feeling a slight amount of trepidation, Bellatrix cast another spell.

"_Priori Incantatem!_"

A whisp of grey smoke issued from her wand tip, solidifying to form a darkened window. Bellatrix nodded slowly. That had been the Darkening Charm she had applied to the window earlier on. Flicking her wand again, she saw the pain-relieving spells she had used. She flicked it once more.

A gasp of horror escaped Bellatrix as she saw an image of herself in the bed she had just left, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her image was holding a picture that she couldn't make out at first but then realised it was one of Potter, though her double was stroking it and kissing it, crying unheard words. Bellatrix watched transfixed as the other Bellatrix stowed the picture beneath the pillow next to her, wiped her tears away then placed the wand tip at her chest. The real Bellatrix felt a sense of foreboding then alarm when the other cast a spell that she recognised immediately. Bellatrix didn't need to see the green light that was actually grey or the movement of the lips as the curse struck her replica's chest. The body bucked then went still.

With a trembling hand, Bellatrix gave her wand another flick. This time, the Locking Charms were seeping out, being placed on the smoky door. After the visage disappeared, Bellatrix slumped down onto the floor, leaning on the nearest wall.

She had cast the Locking Charms. Then after that, Bellatrix, for some inexplicable, unfathomable reason, had cried over a picture of Potter and then killed herself. Shock paralysed Bellatrix as she unsuccessfully tried to work out when she had done so. To her knowledge, she would never kill herself, as she saw it as a cowardly way to die, nor did she have any recollection of doing so.

Bellatrix sat there for a while, pondering whilst suffering from shock. Why would she kill herself? What had caused her to commit suicide?

A thought suddenly struck her. Maybe the picture of Potter could provide some answers. Wiping tears that she hadn't realised were even there away, she shakily got to her feet and went back to the bed. Bellatrix took a sudden deep breath as she reached under the pillow and retrieved the picture she had supposedly put there.

Looking up at her was the smiling face of Harry Potter. But something about Potter was different. Bellatrix watched as the picture Potter ruffled his hair and winked. She frowned as she focused more on his eyes and mouth. She looked at his hair. Then it hit her. That was it! _There was no scar on his forehead!_ That was the proof. Potter was always noticed and noted for his scar; it was why he was famous. Looking closer, Bellatrix noticed that Potter's eyes were cold, the eyes of a killer, the smile was predatory. The Potter Bellatrix knew didn't look like that.

She sighed as she put down the photo. This was not right at all. Where was she? Bellatrix gave a small cry of frustration as she failed to find an answer. She needed the answer and needed one now. Abruptly, Bellatrix stood and strode to the door. Maybe the answers would be found if she searched for them.

Pointing her wand at the door, Bellatrix muttered the counter-curses that were necessary to undo the Locking Charms that had been placed upon it. She then proceeded to blast the door out into the corridor, following it up with a deadly repertoire of hexes.

Bellatrix stepped cautiously into the deserted hallway, ignoring the buckled door and scorched walls that were the signs of damage her spells had caused. Advancing slowly, she surveyed the features of the hallway, noting the furnishings out here were similar and just as expensive and luxurious as the ones that were in the room she had just vacated.

She frowned. This was definitely not the Ministry. Relaxing slightly as no-one was there, but with her wand still up, she moved down the hallway, skirting along close to the walls. The overall colour scheme of the area was the same as it had been wherever Bellatrix had gone so far; black or dark purple. The walls and stands were covered with paintings of presumably long-dead people and Dark objects respectively. Bellatrix recognised the vast majority of the cursed items that were securely locked away in their glass boxes. Some even belonged to her!

Bellatrix frowned again. This was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. Potter had to be behind this, he was the last person she had been with. As she had made her way to the staircase she was now at, Bellatrix had noticed more than one picture of herself and others of Potter. There were even a couple that had the pair of them together, laughing, Potter with his arms wrapped around her body and his face burrowed into her neck, herself with her head back, giggling.

To say the least Bellatrix was very confused. But her confusion grew when someone called her.

"Bella?"

Bellatrix whipped round, her wand arm snapped towards the person who had called her. However, her jaw fell own when she saw who it was.

"Cissy?"

Standing in front of her was none other than her own sister, Narcissa Malfoy. Like Bellatrix, Narcissa looked nothing like she did the last time Bellatrix had seen her. She did not look as young as Bellatrix, which was mystifying considering she was much younger, but she definitely did not look her age.

"Bella," Narcissa whispered fearfully, gesturing first to Bellatrix's wand then to the wrecked door. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" hissed Bellatrix. Something certainly was wrong if Narcissa thought this was normal. "Everything is Cissy? Where the hell are we anyway?"

Narcissa gave Bellatrix a puzzled look.

"Bella, are you feeling all right, because you _should_ know where we are..."

Bellatrix looked at Narcissa and quickly realised there was something that she should know but that she was missing. Rapidly thinking on the spot, she surmised the best way to get around this was to lie.

"I had... an accident," she began, before cringing as she realised how corny that sounded. Bellatrix then decided that a little of the truth wrapped in lies was the best policy here. "I... tried - something - on myself - and... it went wrong."

Narcissa looked mortified.

"Oh Bella, you didn't try and- " The Malfoy matriarch left her sentence hanging in midair.

"Yes," said Bellatrix quietly as she lowered her wand arm, internally feeling utterly perplexed.

"Oh Bella!" Narcissa gasped and before she knew what was happening, Bellatrix found herself held in her sister's embrace. She felt slightly guilty about lying to her sister but the desire for knowledge of what was happening was far greater than her morals at this point. She allowed herself to be held for a few more moments before gently disengaging herself from Narcissa. Her guilt increased tenfold when she saw the tears running down Narcissa's face.

"You said you wouldn't do it again!" Narcissa quietly sobbed as she held Bellatrix's hands in both her own. "You promised to get over it!"

Bellatrix nodded in an apologetic and sympathetic way, but internally she had absolutely no idea what Narcissa was talking about. Then she remembered that the other her - as she had come to think of the Bellatrix that had topped herself as - must have tried to kill herself numerous times. Then she presumed this was what Narcissa was referring to - her repeated attempts to end her life. This worried Bellatrix greatly; what could have happened that was so bad that she felt she had to end her life? Narcissa had composed herself by the time Bellatrix spoke.

"My memory is off," Bellatrix stated with a lie. "I can't remember much."

As expected Narcissa looked horrified. But what was not expected was when Narcissa snatched up Bellatrix's hand and began to drag her somewhere.

"Cissy? - Hey, Cissy! - _Narcissa, where are we going?_" hissed Bellatrix when Narcissa didn't answer her. Bellatrix put up a weak resistance as she was dragged down hallways until they reached a very large lounge. Abruptly, Narcissa shoved Bellatrix onto a cushy sofa, eliciting a small noise of surprise from the elder Black sister, before she took her own seat opposite Bellatrix.

The sisters stared at each other for what Bellatrix felt like was forever. When she couldn't stand it no more and decided to break the suffocating silence, Narcissa beat her to it.

"What don't you know?" asked Narcissa.

Bellatrix thought quickly as she endeavoured to find a plausible enough response.

"Well, I know the obvious things, like that you're my sister, Lucius is your husband etc. Also the Dark Lord is dead-"

"What did you just say?" interrupted Narcissa.

Bellatrix frowned. "The Dark Lord is dead."

Narcissa looked horrified.

"Where did you hear that?" she whispered, fear all over her face.

"Three years ago. I was in Azkaban. Potter did it."

"Potter? As in James Potter?" asked Narcissa.

"Er, no." replied Bellatrix, confused. "James Potter is dead. The Dark Lord killed him when he tried to kill ickle baby Potter, but the Mudblood whore of a mother somehow prevented it."

She looked closely at Narcissa, carefully watching for her reaction. Her heart was hammering in her chest. At the present moment, testing the waters was a dangerous game, but Bellatrix had to know what was going on. Besides, if worst came to worst, a quick Memory Charm would solve everything. How Narcissa reacted would govern how the game was played.

"Bella, do you know we are? As in what country we are in?"

Bellatrix hesitated. This was one of those questions that could change everything.

"England." she said confidently.

Narcissa's face fell.

"Bella," she said sadly. "We're in Luxembourg."

Bellatrix's eyebrows reached for the sky.

"What? Why?"

"As for you other answers, the Dark Lord is very much alive, as unfortunately is James Potter. And when you referred to the Potter children, which one were you referring to?" Narcissa continued.

Now it was Bellatrix's turn to be shocked.

"The only one - fucking Harry Potter."

Narcissa flinched at her use of language and Bellatrix apologised. Silence filled the room as each sister thought over everything the other had said. This time, Bellatrix spoke first.

"Narcissa, tell me where I am? Tell me what has happened, and tell me why I have pictures of Potter."

Narcissa looked at Bellatrix carefully before answering.

"Bella... you're Mrs Potter. You married Harry, five years ago. The Dark Lord authenticated the marriage. You said it was the happiest day of your life, and after Harry was captured and virtually killed, you lost it." Narcissa gave her a semi-apologetic and scared look.

There was silence in the room for a moment as Bellatrix stared dumbfounded at her sister before she screeched:

"WHAT?!"

* * *

The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts was empty, except for the couple of hundred sleeping portraits that were permanent residents, and the red-gold phoenix that was dozing on it's perch. Sunlight filtered in through the large intricately-made stain-glassed windows, bathing the room in a healthy golden glow.

The phoenix, incidentally called Fawkes, crooned softly and rustled its feathers twice. The beady black eyes cracked open slightly, blearily taking in the world, before the magnificent bird fell back into its slumber. Behind Fawkes' perch was a imposing bookcase, on which sat several rare and precious tomes, a few that could be read as titled '_Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic__' and '__The Dark Arts: A Legal Companion__'._

_ On top of the weighty bookcase sat a dusty, tattered, and old hat. A mucky brown colour, this was the Sorting Hat, the method through which the new first years are sorted into the House that suits them best. Currently, the Hat was looking around, the brim that also functioned as its mouth twitching every so often._

_ Next to the bookcase and the hat, held to the wall and surrounded by a glass box, was the gleaming Sword of Gryffindor. The ruby and diamond studded hilt reflected the light, creating pretty dancing patterns that flittered across the room._

_ In front of the bookcase and the sword was an old, polished oak desk with clawed feet. On the desk sat a number of papers, most of which were ordered in neat piles, though some were scattered carelessly. Also on the table were a number of curious spindly-legged instruments, which puffed and smoked randomly._

_ Further on, the office expanded and if you went down a small set of stone steps, a large reception area would open up in which a number of objects were held. Portraits of previous headmasters lined the walls again, most of whom were sleeping. A cabinet was situated in the far corner, underneath the aweing stone arches. _

_ Suddenly the entrance door to the office sprang open and a man who looked older than Time itself entered. The most striking feature of this figure was the long white hair which covered his head and face. A purple hat, which incidentally matched the colour of his flowing robes, covered a part of it, and the beard was long enough to be tied into a loose knot. And this man's name was Albus Dumbledore._

_ Dumbledore strode quickly across the floor after shutting the door behind him. It was then that the portraits began to wake. A few gave their greetings, which Dumbledore returned, then they went back to sleep. Dumbledore walked round to his desk and sat down in the plush chair. Seizing a quill and the silver pot of ink, he quickly and quietly scribbled out a note._

_ Five minutes later, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood up. Rolling up the letter then placing a few charms upon it to ensure its confidentiality, Dumbledore walked over to the phoenix._

_ "Fawkes," Dumbledore said softly._

_ The beautiful bird cracked open one eye and gazed at the Headmaster. Dumbledore reached out a hand and gently stroked the bird's plumage. Fawkes crooned, now wide awake and rustling his feathers._

_ "I need you to take this to Severus," Dumbledore said. "It is of most importance that you are not seen with him. Go now."_

_ The bird held out a clawed foot and Dumbledore placed the letter inside the talons' grasp. Stroking the bird once more, he nodded to the phoenix. Fawkes gave another croon before disappearing in a flash of flame._

_ Dumbledore sighed. Turning around, he walked back down the steps and opened the closed cabinet. Looking around, he took a golden goblet and a glass of amber liquid. Dumbledore walked back to his desk and sat down, pouring himself a measure of the drink. Setting the glass down, he picked up the goblet and drank, leaning his head back once he had taken the first sip._

_ It was all going to hell. His sources had informed him that the Ministry's of Spain and Belgium were falling – fast. Voldemort's forces in continental Europe were too great and too numerous. Only both of the aforementioned countries, the Netherlands and Britain remained safe, but even they were coming under internalised attacks._

_ Spain had been a major ally of Britain during the war, and both countries had supported the other constantly and consistently. Britain had supplied Spain with the necessary troops to hold the Dark Guard off from the raging battle on the Franco-Spanish border, but unfortunately it wasn't enough. _

_ Voldemort, realising the ineffectiveness of the Dark Guard for this particular situation, as the Spaniards were too stubborn to yield, sent in his elite crack troops: The Knights of Walpurgis. The elite subdivision of the Death Eaters, who in turn were a superior form of the Dark Guard, had wasted the Spanish defences. Within the week, Catalonia, Northern Aragon, the Basque Country and the Navarra had been overrun. Then the regions of Asturias, Cantabria, Galicia and Castile y Leon had been over come. Now, only northern Castile La Mancha, Madrid and Valencia were free. But the Dark Lord's forces were relentless and eventually, they would fall. _

_ The Netherlands had also been firm allies of Britain in past and present matters, with the Dutch lending men to Spain during the first half of the war until they couldn't afford to. Both sides also assisted the other during the infamous 'Grindelwald Years', during which both countries where constantly attacked. At the moment, very little of Holland had been taken by the Dark Guard, or any of the others of Voldemort's forces. Their defence was extraordinary, but under the growing army that faced them, they were slowly and surely weakening. For now, they would hold out, but unfortunately, not for long._

_ The Belgians had been a recent ally and invaluable resource, joining the side of the Light and renouncing their neutrality when they saw Voldemort steam roll his way through Switzerland. Once they realised that the new Dark Lord had no honour in the ways of war and no respect for any country's political standings, they over quickly joined the British, Dutch and Spanish in resisting Voldemort. Belgium had suffered greatly in the past, a prime spot of battle during both of the Muggle World Wars, the minor Wizarding ones, and of course, the Great War against Grindelwald. The peoples of Belgian had learnt to live in troubled and turbulent times, and their continued resistance in their homeland, despite the direness of the situation and the slow advancement of Voldemort, had kept the hope of the Dark Lord's defeat high._

_ Dumbledore sighed and took another drink from the goblet. He was old, almost too old for this. Tom Riddle was meant to be a star pupil, a highly anticipated member of Britain's Ministry of Magic. No-one had expected the young, charming man to pack up and leave for the desolate country of Albania. And virtually no-one had expected for said young man to appear many years later as the self-styled Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort. No-one except Dumbledore._

_ Albania, naturally, was the first country to fall. The following weeks had the news headlines screaming of the annexation of the Balkan Countries. Romania and Bulgaria had been sacked and placed under Voldemort's control next. Then had come the big moment that had changed the war, slowing, but never stopping Voldemort's advance._

_ It had happened in Ukraine. Fighting had broken out everywhere. The Dark Guard was ploughing through the country, taking it over left, right and centre. Voldemort was at the forefront, leading his troops onwards and upwards, towards a world he would preside over._

_ But then Chernobyl happened._

_ The Dark Guard and the Ukrainian Aurors were duelling ferociously on the fields of Chernobyl, not far from the nuclear reactor. Dumbledore shuddered as he remembered hearing it for the first time. It had seemed that Voldemort had been gaining the upper hand, and the Ukrainians were losing badly. But they chose suicide and the chance of defeating the Dark Lord over death in battle._

_ It had happened so soon. One moment, the battle had been raging. The next, the nuclear reactor in the power station of Chernobyl exploded. The resulting firestorm had wreaked havoc on the fighters, as those closest to the plant died in droves. Tonnes and tonnes of nuclear waste was thrown into the atmosphere, the radiation fuelling the combatant's spells to such a degree that the devastation and destruction wiped out the vast majority of the wizards in battle. Obviously, such a catastrophe would not be ignored nor unseen by the Muggles and so, after a hasty meeting in the International Confederation of Wizards' headquarters in New York, America, it was decided that the International Office of Misinformation would fabricate a story of an unstable nuclear reactor inside the Chernobyl plant had exploded due to a technical malfunction. This was to be blamed on the dead Muggle workers. Dumbledore knew that it was injust for the Muggles to be used as scapegoats but the Wizarding World had to stay hidden from the Muggle one and that was the best solution to ensure that._

_ Voldemort had supposedly, according to the now-dead survivors, been the closest to the reactor. How he had survived was unknown and quite frankly, a bloody miracle, for him at least. The rest of Europe was unfortunately wrong in their presumptions of his death. Ignorant of Muggle technology and their power, the Dark Lord had seemed to want to make the reactor a base of sorts, in order to recuperate and renew his assault. Others said that he wanted the high ground it offered so as to gain the advantage. But it was never to be._

_ The Dark Lord suffered the most of all in the explosion. Since the incident, he had only been seen wearing a very dark and low hood. His voice had changed. Instead of the pleasant and cultured tones one who knew Tom Riddle would normally associate with him, they were now ones that resembled greatly the hissing of a snake. Dumbledore could only presume that the blast and radiation had disfigured Voldemort painfully and shamefully. He felt little pity for his former student._

_ And then there was Harry. The second eldest and the heir of a noble and prominent family, with a twin who was born seconds afterwards, he had everything he could've possibly asked for. But in the fifth year, it had all changed._

_ Dumbledore remembered that night well. One moment, he had been reading an ancient text on a rather interesting subject, the next; McGonagall was bringing in six hysterical children from Gryffindor House. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Chloe, Gemma and Eric Potter had all told him in turn of Harry's final whereabouts. It seemed that after the dinner feast, Harry had simply disappeared. None of his possessions had been taken; his books, his beloved Firebolt, even the Invisibility Cloak that James had given him had been left behind. Dumbledore had collected more statements from Harry's dorm and classmates, after sending off a letter to Potters' parents._

_ As was expected, James and Lily Potter arrived fairly quickly, demanding the Headmaster in knowing what had happened. Regretfully he had told them. Lily had immediately burst into tears and was consoled by Chloe and Gemma. Eric had gone sullen and quiet. James had left and gone to the Ministry; the next thing Albus knew was that James and his best friend and godfather to his children, Sirius Black, were spearheading the largest manhunt in Wizarding Britain's history._

_ Hogwarts was searched from top to bottom. Every Wizarding home in the country was ransacked in the effort to locate the missing black-haired green-eyed fifteen year old. But it had been in vain. Harry had disappeared._

_ Dumbledore had presumed the boy to have been kidnapped by Voldemort. That was the theory that had been accepted by everyone, up until a year after Harry's disappearance. But the world had not seen the last of Harry Potter, not by a long shot._

_ The Missing Presumed Dead label quickly transformed into Wanted Dead or Alive. The reason being? One year after Harry's vanishing act, he resurfaced in Diagon Alley at Christmas, a Christmas thereafter known as 'The Knight's Yule', as Harry quickly adopted the moniker of 'The Dark Knight'. The late Minister of Magic had delivered a Christmas speech, as was tradition every year. But it was brought to an abrupt halt when Harry killed the Minister in front of the entire nation aided by Death Eaters._

_ It was uproar. Immediately the public wanted Harry's head on a pike. Aurors were sent out to hunt him down. But Harry was never caught. From then onwards, Harry made it quite clear he was a follower of the Dark Lord. He was Voldemort's second-in-command; and he made that __very__ clear._

_ Voldemort had evidently trained Harry in the Darkest of Dark Arts, and as such, he was by far the worst opponent the Light Side could have possibly faced during the course of the war. Well, except for his almost equally lethal wife… Bellatrix Potter._

_ When the Potters, and incidentally the rest of the rest of the public had found that one out, they were shocked beyond belief. Bellatrix was old enough to be his mother. Dumbledore sighed as he remembered Sirius' memorable comment that Bellatrix did not look as old as she was. In fact, she looked like she was in her early twenties._

_ Together as husband and wife they helped Voldemort to conquer pretty much the entirety of Wizarding Europe. Harry singlehandedly took over the French city of Dijon. Those that had been there had said they had never seen a thing more terrifying than the seventeen year old boy who walked around casually, cutting down Muggles and Wizard folk alike._

_ Together, the couple had steamrolled their way through Switzerland. They were the ones who took the two legions of the Dark Guard and conquered Italy. Greece had followed soon after. As Harry had married Bellatrix, his other nickname was 'The King of Pain', a name used by much of Continental Europe and was chosen for the pure reasons that he was fond of using the Cruciatus Curse like his wife, the Queen of Pain. If Harry was truly back, then they weren't done yet._

_ Suddenly, Dumbledore sat up abruptly. Setting the half-full goblet back onto the desk, he rose slowly to his feet and went to the window a few paces away. Looking down, the Headmaster saw the gleaming metal posts of the Quidditch pitch, and the colourful stands that surrounded it, illuminated from the rising morning sun. A small way away from there was the gamekeeper, Hagrid, who it seemed was talking to the hippogriff named Buckbeak whilst sorting out various things._

_ "Thinking about the boy, Albus?" said a voice._

_ Dumbledore nodded and turned towards the Sorting Hat._

_ "I'm afraid so. I just cannot help but wonder where I went wrong..."_

_ "Don't blame yourself." The Hat said. "The boy had his own mind. He knew what the choices meant."_

_ "I know, but that is just exactly that!" Dumbledore said exasperatedly. "Why would he leave all that he had behind? I cannot understand that. Why join Voldemort, when he is the best chance we have for defeating him?"_

_ "The only chance __now__, factoring into account the incident with the Longbottom boy." corrected the Hat._

_ "Yes..."_

_ Dumbledore sighed. The world was growing ever Darker. Voldemort would soon have Europe under his control and then only Britain would be the last obstacle in his way._

_ The door opened._

_ Dumbledore turned around to see the troubled face of Minerva McGonagall. The Transfiguration professor walked stiffly into the room, looking straight at Dumbledore. The old man sighed and went back to his seat._

_ "Is it true Albus?" McGonagall whispered as soon as she had sat down. _

_ Dumbledore gravely nodded his head._

_ "I'm afraid so. How? - we do not know. Why? – almost certainly a scheme of Tom's."_

McGonagall gave a cry of shock and stood up. Dumbledore looked at her pityingly. Conjuring another goblet, he poured his colleague a healthy measure of the drink from the glass of amber liquid. He held it out towards her, and McGonagall sat back down and accepted the drink. After taking a sip, she spoke again.

"So what now?" she asked.

"A rather lengthy and troublesome operation is to come up," Dumbledore began. "I am not overly keen for this to reach the public's ears, nor the Minister's. However, we are short on the manpower needed to succeed. Calling upon the Aurors would be the best option available, but the chances of such a move leaking out to the press are extremely high. We do not need a mass panic breaking out. Although Voldemort's best has returned, and yes, this is not good, we cannot have the entire country succumbing to hysteria. Such an incident occurring will encourage Voldemort to attack us and thus take us over. It cannot happen. It will not happen."

Dumbledore stood again, McGonagall watching him. He strode back over to the window, hands clasped behind his back.

"There have only been two times when Harry Potter was overwhelmed and forced to retreat. The first time was when the boy fought his father and godfather. The results of the fight showed us for the first time that Harry was not invincible. He could be forced to flee, to surrender.

The other time was during the Battle of Southern Coast. I have never, in all my time of living on this planet seen so much death and bloodshed. It had to be our, Wizarding Britain's that is, darkest hour. At that time, Harry seemed unstoppable. The injuries he inflicted during the course of the war upon us made him single-handedly the most deadly, lethal servant Voldemort had in his service. Dijon proved that. But whatever his body count and atrocities had been before were insignificant compared to the wounds he carved into our minds, which still linger today."

Dumbledore turned to face McGonagall. The elderly witch was white, hand grasping the goblet she held so hard her knuckles matched the same shade of her face.

"It can not be allowed to happen again Minerva. Harry Potter can not return to the servitude of Lord Voldemort."

He ignored the flinch that his audience gave.

"If needs be, he will have to be killed." Dumbledore finished.

Silence reined the room until McGonagall spoke up.

"Albus, you can't – really – can't possibly m-m-mean-" she protested.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore sighed, a world-weary one he had been doing lately. "That there is no other option. If I must, I shall."

The two professors stared at each other for a moment before looking away. Each was dealing with the revelation that had been left by Dumbledore. However horrible it seemed, however much it made them feel guilty and horrible, it had to be done.

Suddenly a flash of flame came from Dumbledore's right and Fawkes returned. Dumbledore seized the piece of parchment that was fluttering slowly down the desk as Fawkes returned to his perch. Undoing the Secrecy Charm that had been placed upon it, he opened it up and read. His eyes scanned the page, taking in every word. He felt McGonagall's stare as he neared the end. Finishing it and feeling satisfied, he crumpled the letter up and incinerated it.

"Well?" McGonagall asked, looking at him.

"Severus has received the letter I sent." Dumbledore began. "He knows off Harry's escape. I have instructed him to not inform anyone of this, including Voldemort himself."

McGonagall took another drink as Dumbledore continued.

"We must find the boy. We must. He cannot return."

Just then the door to Dumbledore's office burst open and the Potters minus Gemma (Dumbledore knew that the girl worked too hard for her own good) fell in.

"Albus-" Lily gasped as she righted herself.

"I know," said Dumbledore. "I received Sirius' owl not long ago. The necessary people have been notified of the situation. Our aim is to not let this get out. Do you understand?"

Everyone nodded except Eric.

"Er," he began. "I don't mean to sound ignorant, but why can't the public know? Surely this will keep everyone on alert and therefore safe? If the Ministry know, they can do something about it."

Chloe looked at her younger sibling incredulously. She opened her mouth to answer her brother, but the Headmaster raised a hand to stop her.

"A valid point Eric, however, if such a move were to be played, what do think would happen?"

Eric shrugged.

"What would happen would be this:" Dumbledore answered gravely, surveying the occupants of the room over his half-moon spectacles. "The public would panic. After all, Harry is meant to be dead. We, that is your family and I, would face the blame for letting him escape, as I am the one who put him in a magical coma and you and your family were responsible for keeping him hidden. Considering we both failed at our tasks, we could then be considered as helpers of the Dark Lord. But a bigger question would be raised: _how can Harry come back to life?_ He lost his soul to a Dementor. So how is it that he is alive? After all he was worse than dead.

But that wouldn't be the end of it. News of Harry's reappearance and resurrection would reach Voldemort's ears, and naturally, the return of the best Death Eater he had would embolden him. In turn, following the domino effect, the rest of Voldemort's forces would be emboldened as well. We then face the almost certain possibility of a full-scale invasion, with Harry working against us as an internal attacker."

Silence met his words as Dumbledore finished speaking. Turning his back on his audience, Dumbledore swept along to the cabinet where he had got the drink for himself and McGonagall. Filling four more glasses, he gestured to the newcomers to take them and retrieved another object: the Pensieve.

Dumbledore carried the metal bowl with etched runes to the desk. Setting it down, he turned to the Potters.

"I need each of you to deposit your memories of the encounter with Harry you just had into here. The need for analysis is greater than ever. You said Sirius was there also?" he asked James.

"Yeah," said James. "But he's at the Ministry at the moment, clearing things up."

"He's not told them, has he?" asked Dumbledore anxiously.

"Dunno, I'll ask him." James said. He whipped out a mirror. "Oi! Padfoot!"

A loud "Yup!" drew attention to the mirror.

"I need to know if you're going to be back from MoM?"

"Yeah, in a bit. Everything's up creek out here."

"Well, you need to get back. The Headmaster wants you. You haven't told MoM about Harry?" asked James.

"Nope," came the reply. "Unless you want me to?"

"No, no, that's exactly the opposite of what I want you to do. Just come back here when you're done."

"Okay Jimbo." And the line went dead.

"Jimbo?" asked Lily with a highly amused look on her face.

"Don't ask." James muttered.

Dumbledore smiled. "That aside, we have our answer. Now, while you are each placing your memories into the Pensieve, perhaps you could explain what happened."

The Potter clan looked at one another before James spoke first.

"Well..." he began.

And for the next hour the Potters told their story to Dumbledore. Sirius arrived halfway through, after finally managing to get away from the Ministry. Lily left at the end just as Eric was recounting his version of events. She said that her sister, Petunia was calling her mobile. Since magic interfered with Muggle electronics, Dumbledore let Fawkes flame her outside of the castle grounds, after she had explained to him that she knew through a series of vibrations emitted from her wristwatch.

"And then he just whipped his wand and my spell broke up into pieces. It didn't even harm him!" exclaimed Eric.

Dumbledore looked pensive for a moment as he mulled over what he had been told.

"Did he use any incantation of any sort when he used that particular spell?" he asked Eric.

Eric shook his head. "No. It was wordless."

"Non-verbal." corrected Chloe.

"Whatever. He was terrifying. I mean, why is he even alive? I thought the Dementor took his soul?" asked Eric.

"Indeed it did." confirmed Dumbledore. "But somehow, he has regained it and returned. Obviously, this is most troubling."

"Chloe," Dumbledore said. "You say that you can feel his presence like you used to be able to?"

"Yes, to a certain degree. I can feel it, but it's like pushing the same ends of a magnet together. It's very different to how it was before. Before it was like we had a solid connection, able - to some degree - to read each other's thoughts. Now, I can only sense him."

Dumbledore nodded.

"And you say he duelled you both?" he asked, gesturing to James and Sirius.

The Marauder pair both nodded.

"And he managed to get away!" growled Sirius.

"He knew advanced magic," James added. "Seriously advanced. At one point, he used some very Dark curses. And there is another point that you should know."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said.

"He used Battle Transfiguration." James said. At Dumbledore's raised eyebrows, he elaborated. "Elemental use. Killer bees. An enormous steel ram. All without breaking a sweat."

"The Harry we knew was never any good at Transfiguration." Sirius commented. "In fact, it was his worst subject."

"Indeed." said Dumbledore in a thoughtful voice.

"Albus," said McGonagall. The Transfiguration professor had gone white with fear. "You know this means-"

"I know."

Silence reigned the room as the Headmaster thought about what was said. If it were to be true, then this was worrying. However, the most important thing now was to locate Harry.

"So what do we do now?" asked Sirius, breaking Dumbledore from his thoughts.

"We will have to inform the rest of the Order in time. For now, I must ask you to keep this between us. We cannot run the risk of this reaching the Minister's or the media's ears."

"If I may," interrupted a voice, and everyone turned to see the brim of the Sorting Hat twisted into a smile. They waited for it to continue. "Perhaps telling the rest of the Order now would be the more prudent decison, as you will need as many people as you can get to take the boy down. After all, Dover was not an easy battle to win, if I remember correctly."

James and Sirius glared at the hat, and Chloe's eyes flashed.

"Don't mention that again." she breathed.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment as he thought what the hat had said over.

"Although insensitive and petulant, the Hat has an excellent and valid point," he said. "We shall summon the rest in a-"

Dumbledore was cut off by a flash of flame that signalled Lily's and Fawkes' return. James stood up to greet his wife and went over to her. But immediately, everyone in the room could tell something was wrong.

As Dumbledore moved towards the Potter elders, he saw that Lily was as white as a sheet. James obviously noticed too.

"Lily," James asked. "'What's wrong?"

He received no answer.

"Lily," James repeated, panic in his voice. "What's wrong? Has something happened to Petunia?"

Dumbledore watched as Lily raised her eyes to meet her husband's. They were filled with fear and tears. Sirius stood up abruptly, his face worried. Chloe and Eric moved closer towards their parents.

"Lily?" James whispered.

"He's at Petunia's James." Lily breathed, her voice barely heard. She stared up at her husband, lost and scared. "Harry's at Petunia's."


	3. Ministry Rundown

**Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowling's. This story is a work of fiction. Anything you recognise is JKR's, everything else is mine. No profit is being gained by this.**

**Another chapter had arrived. Sorry about the delay, but life was and still is hectic. Ill health hasn't helped either.**

**Again, I must thank you all for your reviews, your follows and your favourites. It means a great deal to me and some of your thoughts are amusing to say the least. If you have concerns or questions regarding the story, feel free to review or PM me. If you are a Guest, I will answer your question in the author's notes of the next chapter. Apologies, but that is the only way of doing so.**

**This chapter focuses solely on Harry and what he is doing now that he is almost aware that he is in another universe. Harry already has a plan of action and will follow it through. Some of you will not like this chapter; others will love it. I feel that will be the response. But no matter, because this is how I want it and that is how it'll stay. I've read many a story where the readers demand that the author comply with their wishes. This shouldn't happen – at least to an extent. If the author wishes to use your ideas or take note of your thoughts, then they will do so, and hopefully thank you. But at the end of the day, the story belongs to the author and that's how it'll stay. If he/she decides not to incorporate your ideas, there is no need to send them abuse. I for one, will certainly not put up with it.**

**Bellatrix will be up in the next chapter and you'll see her reactions to the situation. Snape will feature, as will Barty Crouch Snr and Dumbledore, and Harry again. More of Harry's past will be revealed as well. But for now, this one is here and so I only ask that you enjoy it. The next update will be much later, most probably after March, due to some family difficulties which I am resolving. This will not be abandoned. For information on updates with all my stories, please check my profile.**

**IMPORTANT!: With great pleasure, I will announce that this story had garnered itself a Beta-reader. So, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome on board the amazing ****xp3r1a**** and his creative talents. I will also take this opportunity to promote his fic, 'Architect of Fate', which I cannot recommend enough that you should read.**

**Criticism is welcome, but only if constructive. Remember, spiteful or abusive reviews are unnecessary. Enjoy. **

**Beta: ****xp3r1a**

**Appetite for Destruction**

**Chapter Two: Ministry Rundown**

"_Arm yourself, because no-one else here will save you." – Chris Cornell_

Petunia Dursley smiled fondly at her son, Dudley, as he lounged on the expansive sofa that dominated the Dursley's pristine living room. She was proud of her only child, for he had gained a job after searching for one for the last five years after he had left his Sixth Form College. In reality, he had been expelled after making an inappropriate pass at one of his fellow students, but Petunia, and her husband Vernon, had refused to believe their precious Dudders had done such a horrible thing. Of course, they told the neighbours that the college had turned for the worse, and that their precious Diddykins couldn't go to a horrid place like that. It was true that the school had had problems with Dudley over the year, so Petunia thought it would be best if Dudley left education and went into full-time work. But only now had he found a job - as a shop floor cleaner.

A proud profession, if she ever knew one.

Petunia sighed as she returned to her washing up. Life was just perfect. Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw that her violets and pansies were growing perfectly. A sudden movement to the right caught her attention. Craning her abnormally long neck to peer out of the window, Petunia spied an argument between Mr and Mrs Peterson of Number Seven. Putting down the washing cloth, she cracked open the window so she could the details of the heated discussion, if so polite a term could apply to it.

"-if I'd known that you were sleeping with your secretary every time you went on your supposed 'business' trips, Brian, then I would have divorced you long ago!" she heard Mrs Johnson scream.

Petunia leaned closer to the window, listening and watching intently.

_Brian Peterson cheating on his wife! Oh, the scandal! Wait until I tell Vernon!_ she thought, her gossip-inclined brain reeling at the implications.

"Honey, I didn't - honestly - I would never cheat on you. Mary!"

Petunia watched as Mary went back into her house, then coming back out with two bin bags.

"And there's your clothes!" she screamed at her husband, who stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in shock. "Don't come back!" And she started to walk back to the house.

"Mary -" Brian pleaded.

"PISS OFF!"

The door slammed shut.

Petunia came away from the window very happy, her need for scandal somewhat sated. How the rumours will fly! She watched as the dejected and humiliated Brian Johnson bent down and picked up his things.

_Serves him right!_ Petunia thought smugly. _Cheating on his wife! Disgusting behaviour!_

Just then Vernon's car came into view. Although confused, for Vernon was meant to be at work all day today, Petunia watched fondly as he pulled up beside Mr Johnson, who was sitting on the driveway to his former home.

"Alright Brian?" asked Vernon in his booming voice.

"Err... yes... yes... I'm fine..."

"Still joining us for the barbeque at the weekend?"

"Err... I don't know... have to talk with Mary..."

"Nonsense!" Vernon laughed. "I'll see you there!"

Petunia's husband raised a hand and pulled up into his own driveway. Petunia quickly got rid of the washing up gloves and cloth and went to the door. She opened it just as Vernon got there.

"Vernon darling! How come you're home now?" she exclaimed.

"Petunia! Nothing to do at work dear, company seems to be running itself. I thought I'd take the day off," said Vernon evenly as he bumped his massive jaw against his wife's offered cheek. She stepped back to allow him in, taking his briefcase away as he did so. He shut the door. "Where's Dudders?"

"In the living room!" Petunia gushed in a singsong voice. She placed Vernon's briefcase on the ground as he moved passed her. Then she went back to the kitchen to place the second brunch she had made for Dudley onto the plates. There wasn't enough for all of them, with how much a growing boy like Dudley had to eat, but that was all right - she'd make some more.

"How are you son?" she heard Vernon ask Dudley.

"Al'ight." grunted the whale-sized person that consumed the entirety of the extra-large sofa and was consuming an industrial size tub of chocolate ice-cream. Currently, Dudley was watching the TV. His eyes were glued to the screen, as was evidenced by the streaks of brown that went down his chin and the front of his top.

"Ah," said Vernon "Watching _Friends_ again?"

"Yeah."

"Not bad for America. Usually their TV is atrocious."

Dudley made a noncommittal sound and Vernon gave up. In reality, Dudley only watched the show because Jennifer Aniston was on it.

By the time Vernon had made it to the kitchen, Petunia had already laid the table, steaming platefuls of bacon, eggs, sausages and mushrooms that were all too large for one normal person to eat by themselves.

"Brunch's ready!" she said brightly.

"Terrific." said Vernon, heaving himself into his chair. "Come on Dudley, to the table!"

The only thing that was greater than Dudley's lust for women was his lust for food. He came bounding outside, and flopped into his seat, which gave a sudden groan in disapproval at the sudden load.

"What we got?" he asked.

"English breakfast." Petunia said promptly, completely oblivious to the fact that she had indeed served a breakfast, not a brunch. No one cared all that much anyway.

Dudley tucked in.

Over the course of the meal, Petunia spent most of her time telling Vernon about Dudley's new job (her approval seemed to radiate off her) then she steamrolled straight into the scandal with the Petersons.

"- and it turns out that he is cheating on Mary! Really Vernon, that woman must be devastated. Can you imagine?"

Petunia failed to realise that Vernon had gone very white and very silent, eyes looking anywhere than at his wife. However, just then, the doorbell went. Everybody went silent.

"Who the devil could that be at this time of day?" Vernon exclaimed, extremely grateful for the distraction, even though it was a reasonable time of day for anyone to turn up. The overly large man stood up and waddled towards the hallway, his destination the front door.

Petunia frowned. Who _could_ be calling now? Her mind ran through the mental diary she had and came up short. No-one was visiting today. She got up and followed her husband.

Vernon reached the door just as Petunia got out to the hallway, curiosity piqued. What they saw, however, was not what they expecting.

For leaning there against the doorframe, seemingly without a care in the world (or for their respectable neighbourhood, for that matter) was none other than the eldest son of her good-for-nothing sister, a thin stick of white wood held tightly in his hand. Petunia could sense that underneath the calm facade was a very tense young man, his green eyes seemingly piercing right into her very soul. He looked so much like her sister's equally awful husband, James Potter, that it was uncanny.

This was Harry Potter and he was meant to be dead.

* * *

"Hello, Uncle and Auntie!" Harry said in a cheery falsetto that was obviously quite fake. "May I come in?"

Harry watched as his uncle opened his mouth to protest.

"We'll have none of that, thank you." Harry said as he flicked his wand. Vernon's mouth abruptly sealed itself shut. "In we go." he added with a cheerfulness that didn't suit the hardness in his eyes.

As Vernon moved back, Harry stepped forward and closed the door behind him. A few temporary bastardised spells and he was feeling like he had been before his incarceration. Harry then turned around to see the terrified faces of his aunt and uncle.

"Y-Y-You're m-m-meant to b-b-be d-dead!" Petunia stuttered.

Harry smiled. _Theory confirmed. They haven't acted like they usually do. I am in a different world._

"Meant to." Harry agreed with a nod. "But not. Now perhaps we would like to go to the kitchen, as I presume that Dudley is there raiding the cupboards for chocolate, and I therefore can speak to you together."

He raised his wand again to make them comply and they did. The trio walked into the kitchen to find that Dudley was indeed in the cupboards. As they entered the fat man turned around.

"Mum! Dad! Who was at the d-" said Dudley hurriedly before stopping midsentence as he saw who was with them.

"You!" Dudley gasped. Harry saw the hand behind his back drop a chocolate bar on the ground in surprise and shock, a most unDudley-like action. "You're meant to be dead!"

Harry shrugged. "So I've been told. Now, all of you face the counter and hands splayed please."

The Dursleys complied, having heard stories about the brutality of their relative from Lily on the few visits in which she had taken the time to come down. Harry moved behind them, towards the table.

"Ah, English breakfast! How nice!" Harry said loudly, causing the Dursleys to flinch. His eyes flitted around the kitchen, taking in the surrounding area, eying up anything that could be used as a weapon, whether for him or against him.

"You're meant to be dead." repeated Petunia again suddenly. Harry briefly looked at the thin woman before sitting carefully down in one of the chairs.

"Am I not? Nope, definitely alive." Harry said flippantly, after patting his chest. They had said that three times now. He saw Vernon's hand clench into fists.

"So," Harry continued. "Dear relatives of mine, how have things been these last few years? Hmm?"

"What do you mean?" asked Petunia.

"News wise." Harry replied. "What's been happening in Britain and the world? And you can turn around now, though hands on the counter still, all of you."

Slowly the Dursleys turned around and faced him, their hands still on the worktop. Harry watched them carefully for any sudden movements, ready to act if necessary. It was a good thing he did. Dudley suddenly came bolting at him like a bullet train, surprising Harry at being able to move his enormous bulk at such a speed.

Harry trained his wand on the incoming steamroller that was his fat cousin and said calmly:

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Dudley's arms and legs instantly snapped together as he continued to move at speed due to momentum, his frame landing heavily at Harry's feet. Petunia screamed and Vernon gave a silent cry of rage. Harry watched as his uncle snatched up a large meat knife and hurled it at his head. Harry, impressed with the surprising accuracy of his uncle's throw, flicked his wand again and the knife became a bouncy rubber ball, which was shot at high velocity at Vernon's crotch. The large man's eyes almost bugged out of his head as the ball made impact and caused him an immeasurable amount of pain. He collapsed to his knees with his hands holding his nether regions just as a Stunning Spell arrived to smack him in the face. He keeled over, unconscious.

Harry then turned and pointed his wand at Petunia, who cowered against the counter.

"Please don't hurt me… Please…" Harry's aunt begged him.

Harry hesitated, before making up his mind. He raised the wand once more.

"_Stupe-!_"

BZZZZ!

The Dursleys' front door buzzer went off.

Harry and Petunia both froze.

BZZZZ!

Harry reacted first. He flicked his wand again, Stunning Dudley, before levitating Vernon over to his son. After doing that, he went over to Petunia and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the hallway.

BZZZZ!

"What are you doing?" whispered Petunia fearfully.

"Shut up and listen," said Harry. "Go to the door, open it, and send whoever it is away as fast as you can. And don't do anything stupid – I'll be watching!" he finished with a snarl, before he shoved Petunia forward.

His aunt nodded rapidly as he backed into the living room doorway, hiding himself from sight. As Petunia went over to the door and stood for a second to compose herself, Harry thought about what was happening and what he was doing. It was beyond rational – his plan – he knew that, but it had to be done. He had to get an assessment of the situation. As Sigma seven had always reminded him:

_ For fuck's sake, whenever you fucking arseholes do battle or fucking prepare for it, make fucking sure you get a bloody fucking grip on the fucking situation. If you want to end up in the fucking shit, by all fucking means be a fucking wanker. But if you do have a single fucking brain cell in that bollocking shit-thick fucking skull of yours, you fucking bastards'll do as I fucking well say. Fucking got it?_

Yes sir, I think I do.

Harry raised his wand and nodded to his aunt as she turned around to face him, fear etched into her features, before he backed into the living room enough to be hidden from sight. It was about to begin.

* * *

Petunia turned back to the door, the last few minutes replaying on loop in her mind.

_ What was happening?_

She couldn't answer that question. She _didn't_ want to answer that question. And she didn't want to know the answer. As she grasped the metal handle of the door, she could only think of her husband and son, dead for all she knew on the floor of their kitchen, their _home_. And she was being held hostage, in effect, by the son of her disowned sister who was meant to be dead.

She turned the door handle.

And came face to face with Brian Peterson.

Petunia had to mask her surprise. Brian was the last person she had expected to turn up on her doorstep.

"Oh!" said Petunia. "Brian."

Brian nodded nervously.

"I heard some noises," he mumbled, his eyes darting between hers and the floor. "I... I, err, thought that perhaps, um, you needed help?"

Petunia could tell the lie through his half-truth. Brian obviously presumed that Petunia didn't know about his major bust up with his wife, Mary. At the present moment, Petunia didn't care - she was glad in fact, that the fight between them had happened.

It gave her a chance.

"No, thanks Brian, we're fine in here. Are you OK?" she asked, gesturing to the bin bags that were clutched by his fingers. Brian glanced down sheepishly at them before looking back at Petunia.

"Err... yes... Mary and I... a small dispute..."

As Brian continued to ramble, Petunia chanced a glance behind her towards the entry to the living room. Although it was dark there, she couldn't see her nephew. By the same train of thought, she also knew that even if Harry was by the living room window he still wouldn't be able to see her. Breathing in and swallowing hard, Petunia decided to risk it, potentially gambling with all their lives.

"Brian!" she whispered urgently, cutting the man off from his monologue. He stopped mid-speech.

"No!" hissed Petunia frantically. "Keep talking, but listen!"

She heard a movement behind her.

"Please."

Brian looked at her, confused, but complied with her wish. He began to talk again. Petunia gave an internal sigh of relief, before looking behind her. Harry wasn't there. Good.

"Get your phone out!" she mouthed. Brian continued to nod and did so. Petunia backed into the hall, motioning to Brian to ignore her.

"Oh, OK Brian, let me just talk to Vernon."

Petunia left a silent and puzzled Brian Johnson on her front doorstep as she walked back into the living room. She prepared herself for what was to come.

Almost immediately as soon as she entered the room, Harry grabbed a fistful of her clothes and bundled her against the door.

"Well?" he growled. "I'm getting impatient."

"I-I-I n-need t-t-to phone his w-w-wife," stuttered Petunia in shock, before she composed herself. "I told him I was going to talk to Vernon."

She felt her nephew staring at her as she told the lie. Could wizards read minds? Harry's hold on her clothes loosened, then it went lax as he let her go. Petunia breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Harry.

"I need to get his wife's phone number," she said. Harry stared at her for a moment before nodding.

"Hurry up." he spat.

Petunia nodded and walked over to the wooden cabinet that lined one of the living room walls. She bent down and opened a draw, rummaging through for her address book. Eventually, she found the pink object and clasped it close to her chest as she turned around and began to walk back to the front door. She was just about to pass Harry, with his unrelenting stare, and walk out into the hallway when the person in question threw out his arm.

"Show me the number."

It was a direct order, laced with a threatening undercurrent. Petunia had no choice but to comply with her nephew's wishes. Slowly, she handed over the address book to Harry's outstretched hand.

"What's his name?" Harry asked suddenly, causing Petunia to jump.

"Brian. Brian Peterson. His wife's name is Mary." she supplied.

Harry nodded and flicked through to the 'P' section, just as Petunia realised something.

_Lily's surname began with P! He's going to find out what I'm doing!_

Petunia watched with mounting trepidation as her nephew's eyes scanned the page that was now open. Her heart was hammering in her chest, like a small bird frantically trying to escape the metal bars of its cage. Then, Harry closed the book shut with a _snap_ and gave it back to her.

"Don't," Harry growled, green eyes glowing like emeralds. "Keep me waiting."

Petunia nodded, took the book and walked briskly out to Brian. As soon as she was out of earshot of Harry, she breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close. Harry had almost seen his mother's name. Or perhaps he did and didn't say anything. Petunia shuddered and put the thought to the back of her mind; she had to get to Lily, even if Harry did know.

She reached the door and faced a very confused Brain Peterson.

"Err, Petunia, what's wrong- " he asked.

"Give me your phone!" Petunia whispered.

Brain handed over the phone, his mouth shut. Petunia thanked whatever deity had made him close his mouth and just do as she asked. Instructing Brian to hold open the page on which her sister's number was on, Petunia tapped in Mary's number and then gave it back to Brian.

"Talk loudly!" hissed Petunia.

Brian nodded again and held the phone to his ear just as Petunia took out her own mobile. She had managed to sneak it out of the draw from where she also got the address book. Quickly glancing at Lily's number, she punched it in and held it to her ear. Ten seconds later, she heard a voice.

"Hello?"

Never before had Petunia been so glad that Lily was what she was and that her voice was heard. Swallowing nervously, Petunia spoke quietly and fearfully.

"Lily, it's me – Petunia. Please, I don't care what you're doing… for the love of God, please just… listen - listen _very_ carefully…"

* * *

Harry watched as the unknown man at the front spoke into a phone, seemingly having a heated discussion with someone. He knew it wasn't his aunt, as he could see the left back side of her leaning against the front. But something was bugging him. He had the feeling he had missed something he shouldn't have.

Harry hadn't performed Legilimency on his aunt as there would have been no doubt she could have sensed it, but there was definitely something amiss. There was something _he _had missed. Slowly, he raised his wand and cancelled the weak Disillusionment Charm he had placed upon himself. Harry crept out to the hallway cautiously, wand held and raised high, a spell on his lips, only to find his aunt putting something back into her pocket and the man outside on a phone. Then it hit him:

_"Show me the number."_

_Harry sensed Petunia's trepidation as he took the address book she held out to him._

_"What's his name?" he asked quietly, causing a glimmer of satisfaction to rise up within him as his aunt jumped._

_"Brian. Brian Peterson. His wife's name is Mary." replied Petunia._

_Harry nodded as he flicked through to the 'P' section, his eyes darting over the page until he found it. Indeed, there was a Brian and Mary Peterson that lived at Number Seven, Privet Drive. There was the phone number for the house. Satisfied, he closed the book and handed it back to his Aunt._

_"Don't keep me waiting."_

But that memory held more information. Harry realised that underneath the Peterson's address was another name and address.

_Lily and James Potter. _

_Number Eight, Godric's Hollow, Cornwall._

And right underneath that address was a phone number.

Harry felt like a lead weight had suddenly materialised in his stomach. Petunia hadn't been phoning the Peterson household; she had phoned her sister, Lily Potter.

Acting fast, Harry thrust out his wand.

"_Stupefy! Accio Petunia's phone!_"

A jet of red crashed into the gut of Brian Peterson just as the man had put away his phone, rendering him unconscious. A second jet of blue ripped the mobile from Petunia's pocket, the woman's face now a solid mask of sheer terror. Another spell yanked her inside just as the door slammed shut.

"YOU BITCH!" Harry roared. "DO YOU HAVE _ANY _IDEA AS TO WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE!"

His aunt whimpered, her fear leaving her unable to speak. Harry gave a snarl of frustration.

"_Stupefy!_"

Petunia joined her son and husband in unconscious ignorance.

Harry seethed as he watched her drop to the floor, before hitting her with a Body-Bind Curse and Levitating her to the rest of the Dursleys. He needed to leave here and fast. Fuck the unconscious bodies and whoever may find them. Moving over to the kitchen cupboards, he grabbed a couple of snack bars that he found and prepared to Apparate out, only to find a heavy crushing force preventing him from doing so.

"FUCK!" screamed Harry. Immediately Harry regretted his outburst, realising that it could have given away his position. Raising his Occlumency shields, he locked his emotions away behind the iron mask that he wore to battle. Very rarely did he lose his rag and let his emotions be revealed. Fingering his wand, a habit he had picked up a long time ago in the middle of the Second Wizarding War, he thought rapidly for a plan that would work. If he knew Dumbledore as well as he thought he did, then there would be the best of the best of the Order waiting to meet him. Peeking out of the window, he saw what he didn't want to see.

The help Petunia had phoned for had arrived.

* * *

_A little while earlier..._

Dumbledore's eyes widened when he heard Lily's words. Eric and Chloe gasped. McGonagall went paler and Sirius muttered various colourful expletives. Moving swiftly, the Headmaster ignored the many pairs of confused eyes as he reached into a drawer from behind his desk, pulling out a Chocolate Frog Card of himself.

"Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin." he said to the card. The others knew what would happen. Sure enough, within two minutes the four people that were summoned entered the Headmaster's office.

"You called?" said Mad-Eye in his gruff voice. Tonks, Kingsley, and Remus took seats whilst Mad-Eye stood.

"Indeed I did," answered Dumbledore to his long-time friend. "We have a rather unexpected and dangerous situation we have no choice but to face."

Dumbledore noticed that Remus was looking inquisitively at the Potters' faces and Sirius'.

"This... wouldn't have anything to do with..." Remus left the name hanging in the air but everyone cottoned on: Harry Potter.

"I am afraid it does." said Dumbledore mournfully. He took a deep breath, composing himself before he spoke again. "Harry Potter has returned."

As was expected, cries of rage and disbelief were heard from those who had just arrived.

"How?" asked Tonks in disbelief.

"The details will be explained later," Dumbledore said. "Our primary objective is to protect Lily's sister and her family, for Lily's sister has just contacted her saying Harry is at her place of residence." he added for the benefit of those with confused looks.

"You know this will be dangerous." Dumbledore continued. "You know what could possibly happen when facing Harry Potter." Lily gave a small cry, whilst Chloe grimaced. "Therefore, if you wish not to participate in the upcoming operation which will involve capturing Harry, I will not hold it against you."

A dumbfounded silence filled the room.

Then James spoke.

"It didn't matter if you were on his side or not, if you were wrong or right, black or white. No cause, no creed, no religion, no flag, no uniform and no political standing ever stopped the curse from the wand of my son. He had no morals, no human decency. He was a killing machine. He killed our friends, our family."

"Voldemort will be denied the return of his most devoted follower. If Harry is alive and kicking, I will make sure he goes back to where he belongs."

A silence once again met spoken words as they all waited for James to finish.

"That place is Hell."

Dumbledore glanced around the room at everyone's faces. James, Sirius, Kingsley and Mad-Eye all had the same look - revenge. Remus looked thoughtful and worriedly looked at his fellow Marauders. Tonks and Chloe were silent, lips pursed. Lily looked close to tears, but her gaze was firm. Eric looked defeated and Minerva horrified. Dumbledore sighed before he spoke again.

"So, all those that wish to go, please raise your hand."

Slowly, every hand went up except for McGonagall's.

"I can't Albus," she whispered. "The memories... my husband..."

"I understand completely." Dumbledore smiled kindly. "However, this is a advantage as I need someone here who will supervise Eric whilst we are gone."

At once, the youngest Potter exploded.

"What? You _cannot_ be serious?!"

"Nope, that would be me." quipped Sirius, sending a wave of small smiles around the room at the awful, and overused pun.

"I'm meant to stay here while my family go to fight? What happens if they get hurt? I'm meant to stew here?"

"Eric," said Dumbledore in a commanding tone. "You are not of age. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to accompany us. Your parents agree with me on this, I think?"

Both Lily and James nodded.

"Don't worry pup." said Sirius. "At least you're safe here."

"Precisely," agreed Dumbledore. "However... Chloe... are you sure you wish to join us?"

The twin sister of Harry Potter looked up at Dumbledore and nodded.

"If you decided to stay, it would be fine." Dumbledore offered .

"No." Chloe said, hate lining her voice. "I want to go."

"You are of age, so I cannot stop you, but I have to be sure." Dumbledore said.

Chloe nodded again.

"Then we shall go. If I remember correctly, your sister's address is Number Four, Privet Drive?" Dumbledore asked Lily. At the nod, he continued. "Then if everybody who is going could please hold onto one of my fingers..."

Dumbledore turned to the remaining two people standing in the room.

"Minerva, Eric, we shall see you soon."

And with that Fawkes the phoenix swooped down from his position on the rafters, grasped Dumbledore's robe hood and Flamed everyone to Number Four, Privet Drive.

They arrived in Privet Drive, in broad daylight. Immediately, Dumbledore addressed Mad-Eye and Kingsley.

"Wards."

Both men nodded and with a wave of their wands, Anti-Apparation Wards settled over the area. Another swish, and every Muggle on the street felt a sudden urge to stay indoors and away from the windows.

"The Muggle problem is solved, and the wards are up." Kingsley said in his gravelly voice.

"A good thing too." added Mad-Eye. At the expectant looks, he pointed at the house his magical eye was focused on: Number Four. "Potter's in there and just tried to Apparate out. He seems pissed."

Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging the statement. The aged man knew that this was not going to be easy nor simple, but it was worth a try. Perhaps this strange resurrection of Harry's had weakened him in some way. Dumbledore could only hope as he pulled out his wand. Then, pointing the tip of his wand to his throat he said:

"_Sonorus._"

"Harry Potter, you are surrounded. I ask you to make this easy for yourself and to give yourself up voluntarily. I would rather force is not resorted to, but if needs be, it will." Dumbledore's magically amplified voice called out.

The area was completely quiet for twenty seconds until Mad-Eye swore colourfully.

"What is it?" James asked sharply, not taking his eyes off of the front of the house.

"He's blocked my eye." Mad-Eye snarled. "Little fucker. Now I can't see him or through anything."

"How the hell would he know a spell like that?" Sirius asked, but before anyone could answer, Chloe called out.

"Mum."

Lily turned to her daughter.

"What is it Chloe?"

"There... by the front door."

Dumbledore followed the gaze of the Potter daughter and saw that there was indeed something by the front door... or rather someone. It was an unconscious - hopefully instead of dead - middle-aged man. Dumbledore moved quickly and silently towards the man, wand ready as he did so. When he reached him, he knelt down and felt for a pulse. There was one.

"Remus. Sirius."

The two men nodded and moved over towards Dumbledore.

"Take him back to Poppy - make sure he stays unconscious - and make sure he will be fine. Harry could have done anything." Both men nodded their affirmative.

"We'll come back." Sirius said, before he grasped the unconscious man's armpits and Remus his feet and together they hauled the man towards the boundary of the wards. They had made it ten feet from Dumbledore when the front door suddenly opened.

Fawkes appeared out of nowhere and Flamed Dumbledore back to the main group. Sirius and Remus dropped the man and hit the ground, wands aimed at the doorway, as did everyone else.

A shadow fell over the door.

The white wood of a wand was suddenly thrown out, causing a few people to jump.

It clattered to the floor.

Feet became visible, followed by legs, a body, then a head with hands laced together behind it.

The lean form of a black-clad Harry Potter emerged.

"I surrender." he announced.

A shocked silence fell onto the area. As far as anyone could remember, Harry _never _surrendered, even in the face of certain death. Dumbledore stepped forward cautiously, surveying the man before him. He watched as Harry walked forward over his wand, before kneeling to the floor then lying facedown on it, his wand behind his feet and his hands still on his head. Dumbledore held his wand steadily.

"_Accio wands!_"

The wand Harry had thrown down and another from his trouser leg and jacket zoomed to his feet, where they stayed.

"Oh shucks, you got me." Harry flippantly said. Dumbledore frowned down at the prone man before him. Apprehension clawed at him. Fawkes crooned a doubting tone from his place on Dumbledore's shoulder and his owner could only agree. This did not seem right at all... a nagging doubt filled his mind as it rapidly tried to comprehend what had happened. What was Harry's game? What did he stand to gain by surrendering? The only answer that Dumbledore could come up with was nothing.

"Why Harry? Why?" Dumbledore asked.

"Why? Look for the answer yourself old man. Maybe one day you'll find it."

Dumbledore puzzled over Harry's words. What did he mean? By now, the Order had grouped closer towards the pairing, all wands pointed at Harry.

"What shall we do?" asked Tonks.

"Well duh, the obvious answer is arrest me!" Harry said sarcastically.

"_Silencio!_"

A spell from Lily's wand hit her son in the head and Harry found he couldn't talk. James hit him with a Body-Bind Curse for good measure.

"That was too easy," the Potter patriarch remarked to Dumbledore. "He's never surrendered before, this is wrong-"

"You've got that right!" Mad-Eye suddenly roared, his wand pointed to the left of them. He wasn't alone either. Both Chloe and Mad-Eye had spotted something that everyone had missed. The rest of the group watched as the 'Harry' that was lying on the floor flickered from existence. They turned back to the two who had seen something. Dumbledore frowned as Chloe's spell hit nothing but mid-air but all further reservations were cast aside as suddenly Mad-Eye's curse hit an invisible shield, hurtling back to towards the caster and a purple one following it up. Dumbledore waved his wand and a shield appeared in front of the group, protecting them. The purple curse hit the shield with a _bang_ and disappeared. With another wave, Dumbledore Vanished the shield and fired a spell at the origins of the purple curse. It hit the wall of the house next door, passing through nothing but air.

"Behind me. Circle." Dumbledore commanded. Immediately, the rest of the Order grouped around in a circle with their backs to each other, wands ready and waiting...

Then an orange spell followed by a blue spell came from the left of Dumbledore. Mad-Eye, who was to the left, deflected the pair but almost as soon as he had done so, another set was flying towards him. Remus turned to aid Mad-Eye and as he did so, another spell was shot from just seven feet away. Remus was too slow and crumpled to the floor as red light washed over him. James, who was next to Remus, gave a cry of rage and lashed out. Red light fled from his wand and another invisible shield was erected by the unseen opponent who wasn't that far away, deflecting it. Mad-Eye had brought out Remus' emergency Portkey and the werewolf was whisked back to Hospital Wing, Hogwarts. The circle grouped tighter.

Another bolt of crimson shot out of nowhere and headed towards the compacted Order. James and Sirius produced shields to negate it, but a chain series of other numerous spells followed it up. Time after time, the Order members deflected and cancelled an amazingly creative variety of spells thrown their way, from borderline Dark curses to simple Cleaning Spells. Kingsley was then hit by a particularly odd Floating Charm, just narrowly avoiding the Stunner that then flew over his head by inches. Then they all saw - and heard - a twig snap.

"Damn." Mad-Eye suddenly growled.

"What is it Alastor?" Dumbledore inquired.

"We know he's under a Disillusionment Charm." replied Mad-Eye. "That much is obvious - but it's bloody good. Zero contortion, complete concealment, Merlin's beard… I've never seen anything like it."

Dumbledore frowned. To create a Disillusionment Charm that good needed huge reserves of power. Harry didn't have that power. Only himself and two others he knew of where capable of creating a Charm that powerful: Grindelwald and Voldemort. It wasn't possible for Harry to do that.

So, what was going on?

Testing the theory, Dumbledore watched carefully as he scanned the ground, looking for tell-tale signs of human movement. It happened. A rock barely shifted slightly but it was enough and Dumbledore took aim.

He hurled an almost colourless charm at the air above the rock at a deliberately increased speed. As he had hoped, a blue explosion happened as the spell impacted with what seemed to be mid-air, but in reality it was a person that hadn't been able to bring up a shield in time and had been caught out. The black of a trouser leg was visible for the barest of seconds, before it was concealed as soon as it had appeared. Harry was there.

Instantly, the Order turned and opened fire on the position. Three physical shields popped into existence, reduced to nothingness within seconds. Curses and jinxes were flung in random directions, trying to seek out the wanted man. Dumbledore had to admit it was a clever tactic that Harry was playing; it was one which he himself would never have thought of.

The Headmaster was ripped from his thoughts when Chloe gave a scream of surprise as a tendril of magic grabbed her arm and wrenched her away from the group. Dumbledore and Mad-Eye turned and fired Stunners like everyone else towards the source but suddenly Chloe was lifted and intercepted every one of them, her body used as a shield.

"Oh shite!" swore Mad-Eye.

One Stunner was bad enough but _six..._ six Stunners were a month full of aches and pains, as Dumbledore knew well. Flicking his wand, the assailant's spell was broken as Chloe came back to the group, and was sent along to the hospital wing, like Remus before her, by her own Portkey.

Dumbledore sent another spell towards invisible Harry and another shield deflected it. James and Sirius came to the front and fired off a series of Paralysis Curses. The turquoise jets smashed into more shields, this time physical. Mad-Eye waved his wand and several yellow orbs mingled with the Transfigured spears from Kingsley. Dumbledore added a few Stunners to the concoction. More physical shields popped up, though swearing and grunts of exertion were heard. Then it all abruptly stopped.

Everyone stood completely still. Wands were still up but the tension had decreased. Had Harry been taken down? Dumbledore looked at James and Sirius, who had conflictive looks. It was obvious that they thought Harry was still out there. Dumbledore stepped forward cautiously, his eyes taking everything in keenly. Fawkes was flying up overhead and Dumbledore felt Fawkes' agreement with Harry's father and godfather. Unexpectedly, a stream of red appeared out of thin air three feet away from the Headmaster. Instantly another stream of blue met it as Dumbledore reacted and a purple disc formed in the middle. Dumbledore brandished his wand like a whip and the blue overpowered the red and someone was propelled through the air by the force of it. With a flash, the two colours disappeared and Dumbledore heard Harry land with a _thump_. James and Sirius moved forwards slightly, every muscle tensed and poised, ready for action.

"He's still here," growled Sirius, his teeth bared slightly like a dog's. "Still here..."

Everyone suddenly saw Sirius change into a large, black, bearlike dog, tail wagging eagerly with his nose in the air. Sniffing loudly, dog-Sirius let out a long whine before sticking his nose to the ground and walking fast. Dumbledore made to follow the animagus but Sirius had barely moved two feet before the tell-tale red of a Stunning Spell headed his way from the right.

The black Grim gave a yelp of surprise and instantly Sirius was back on his feet in human form, a shield snapping into place. The red light returned at twice the speed towards the caster and was followed up in kind by Sirius, James and Kingsley. They passed through air as Dumbledore sent a Cutting Curse towards where he predicted Harry to be. The old man's aim was true as a hiss of pain escaped the air and the colour red dropped to the ground from a floating wound.

Everyone turned and fired.

Dumbledore watched as a multi-coloured barrage of magic was thrown towards Harry. The majority splashed themselves against an invisible shield, but some were returned. He heard Kingsley gasp as a spell grazed his cheek, specks of blood falling from the slight cut. At the same time, Lily cried out as she was thrown backwards, sprawling in the grass as she landed. Immediately, James gave a bellow of rage and fired a highly questionable spell at Harry's invisible position. But it sailed through air again as Harry had already moved. He had also cleaned and sealed his cut. Mad-Eye barked a command, letting loose a spell that was designed to stick to invisible opponents, which hit Harry's back. Three spears of fire was the response as they all watched the silhouette of a young man that was covered in a light-green twitch his arm. The temporary visibility of their unseen assailant disappeared.

"Enough of the games." Dumbledore said suddenly. "Do nothing until I give my command."

Dumbledore drew back his wand and whipped it forwards, a rich, navy blue spell released from the tip. Everyone's hair stood up on end as goosebumps erupted on their skin. The magical latency from the backlash of the arching spell that had been unleashed was phenomenal as it flew across the air, before impacting on a hastily crafted shield. Dumbledore pushed his wand forward, urging his spell onwards.

Whatever was happening to Harry, no-one knew except Dumbledore, and evidently Harry, as no-one else knew of the spell fired. But if the others were able to see Harry, they would've seen him struggling, sweat tumbling down his face as the sheer mental exertion as he attempted to hold onto his protection. He was gripping his wand with two hands, stopping the spell that Dumbledore had used from overpowering the only shield in existence known to counter it.

Dumbledore felt victorious as he continued his forced assault on Harry. Although he couldn't see the man, he knew that Harry would be struggling and virtually unable to do anything. So his surprise was great as he felt the spell being forced downwards. With curious and concentrated eyes, Dumbledore watched with disbelief as he saw the spell arching towards the ground. Anger mounting, Dumbledore flicked his wand forward once more.

A massive band of blue was sent along the now broken link, surging forwards. It smashed into Harry and his shield. A sound like a bomb exploding went off before silence prevailed. Then a sickening _thud_ and subsequent groan were heard as all eyes snapped towards the now dented car of Number Six.

Dumbledore raised his wand and cast another spell, this time a highly-advanced version of the Incapacitation Jinx. It hit another shield, though the shield was low towards the ground. It fizzled out of existence when Dumbledore cancelled the jinx and fired off a Choking Curse. Clearly heard gasps now came from beside the car, and then spells were being flung with a ferocious velocity and aggressiveness around the gardens. Dumbledore took a step backwards as coloured bolts of light emitted themselves from nowhere, some pulverising the objects they landed on. Suddenly, Lily had seized his robes and was yelling at him.

"Let him go!" she screamed. "You'll kill him!"

She was sobbing now and Dumbledore felt a twinge of pity. She was Harry's mother after all. Thinking that Harry had maybe now been beaten, as the spellfire had decreased to high intensity, but low firing rate, Dumbledore took a step forwards. Harry would be almost unconscious now. Before long, the spells had stopped completely. Then the flickering image of Harry was seen, his hands clamped around his throat, wand working furiously to undo the Charm. The strain of it must have waver, weakening the Disillusionment Charm.

"Do nothing!" Dumbledore commanded as he saw James and Sirius move forwards.

"STOP IT!" Lily screeched.

Then three things happened at once.

Harry unexpectedly gave a great gasp of relief as he cancelled Dumbledore's curse.

Lily drew her own wand, facing Dumbledore.

Harry stood back up and faded from sight.

"No!" Dumbledore shouted as James and Sirius surged forwards, anger contorting their features. Harry fired two spells at his father and godfather, both of whom didn't expect the sudden burst of speed with which Harry reacted. They were felled, unconscious.

Dumbledore raised his wand to cancel the spells, but Harry smacked the counter-curses away. Dumbledore launched a multi-chain Stunner/Body-Binder series but in a single movement, Harry shielded the lot and then slashed his wand, causing a Smoke Charm to go off with a _bang_, filling the entire area, and then following up with a flash of blue light.

_'Impossible_,' the Headmaster thought as he seized Lily and dragged her to the ground. Another similar flash of white light suddenly went off from near Harry's position, temporarily blinding those who had their eyes open. Dumbledore twisted his wand and blue flames surrounded the group, shielding them from further attacks. However, a little-known mustard-coloured curse extinguished the flames and more flashes surrounded the air. Dumbledore prayed that everyone could protect themselves from the demon in human form that was Harry, just as Lily was ripped from his grasp. Blinding light covered the areas causing Dumbledore to lose track of where the woman went. He twirled his wand, trying to return her to him.

Nothing happened.

Harry made another movement causing the smoke and light to vanish. After two seconds of nothingness, everyone then shot up.

Looking around, the Headmaster saw that James, Sirius, Lily and Kingsley were unconscious, their bodies surrounded by a slightly silver, glowing cocoon. Mad-Eye was still standing, as was Tonks. Tonks gave a cry of despair as she saw comrades in the state they were. She went to touch them but was repelled by the silver light.

"You can't help them." A voice from many, many years ago said. Dumbledore spun around.

It was then Dumbledore had his first proper look at the newly-resurrected Harry Potter. Harry had the same eyes, the same face and hair, in fact, physically nothing had changed. Dumbledore noted - alongside that Harry was obviously in a great amount of pain from his choking attack (there were red sores and marks on his neck) and was successfully covering that fact from nearly everyone except Dumbledore, making it look like nothing - that he was using an unfamiliar wand and…

With widened eyes he stared at the weapon that was held tightly in Harry's left hand. A Japanese katana glinted menacingly as Harry turned to face them all, blazing barely-constrained anger. But there was something different. The Harry that Dumbledore knew was flippant, with an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude whilst facing the Order. Emotions would clearly be displayed and occasionally, just occasionally, spellwork would be sloppy. And he never, ever used Muggle weaponry.

This Harry was different. First of all, Dumbledore noticed that Harry had an economy of movement; each limb was placed in accordance with the others, every part of the body flowing in harmonious synchronisation, no energy was wasted on unnecessary actions. The fighting stance was all together different, not the barely guarded one he was used to seeing. No, this stance was cautious, reserved but ready for action if need be, like a predator. Harry reminded Dumbledore of a tightly coiled spring ready to burst or a venomous snake just about to strike. Here was a killer that had taken many lives in cold blood, with no emotion or regret, and would do so again, and again.

Then there was the face. Dumbledore's eyes flickered up to Harry's forehead, noting the unfamiliar lightning bolt scar. Harry's lips twitched as he did that and his grip on the katana tightened. What was most prominent was the lack of emotions. Harry's face was a blank canvas, not one emotion showing on his face. The green eyes were watchful, alert, but devoid of any perceptible feeling. Dumbledore also noticed that the almost ever present insanity that Harry used to display, courtesy of his wife Bellatrix, was somewhat absent. He thought that perhaps this was a delayed reaction to the Dementor's Kiss until he remembered the illusion Harry had created and the flicker of anger and confusion which had just shown itself. Harry definitely had emotions; they were just locked away behind incredibly good Occlumency shields, perhaps master level, which was a problem of and within itself. The Harry he knew had mediocre Occlumency shields, a far cry from the obviously exceptional ones here.

"Let them go!" hissed Tonks at Harry. Dumbledore watched as Harry's impassive face turned towards her.

"No."

That word was said with such conviction and certainty Dumbledore was beginning to wonder if this was really Harry. The Harry he knew would have killed his parents by now, having incapacitated them like this. But then again, the Harry he knew would never have done what the Harry that was facing him now had done.

"You've put up wards. Take them down." Again, another order. Dumbledore sighed.

"I'm afraid I cannot Harry."

"Why?"

"You know full bloody well why!" snarled Mad-Eye. "You know why!"

Dumbledore put out an arm to signal for Alastor to stop. Mad-Eye had always been touchy on the topic of Harry's incarceration; his girlfriend had died under Harry's orders after the death of a Knight of Walpurgis under Mad-Eye's hand. Harry had taken revenge. As such, to say that the ex-Auror hated Harry immensely would be an understatement. Mad-Eye had always maintained his opinion that Harry should have been killed and his body incinerated, obliterated, ashes cast out to the furthest reaches of the Earth.

"Harry, please – surrender. It is for the best. You have to face up to your crimes and-"

Harry had launched a Bone-Breaking Curse at Dumbledore, cutting the Headmaster off. A shield protected him from the curse and Mad-Eye had already fired one back off in kind. As quick as a flash, the katana that Harry held was brought up and the spell was split into two before it disappeared.

"He's put runes on the sword." Mad-Eye muttered in grudging admiration.

Another curse zoomed towards him and Mad-Eye dodged it, before roaring his own incantation. A yellow light sped towards Harry but was intercepted by a small viridian sphere. The resulting explosion affected Tonks only, knocking her unconscious. Harry turned to Dumbledore and Mad-Eye once more, and a two vs one duel began.

Dumbledore expelled a series of jinxes designed to incapacitate and contain whilst Mad-Eye went for a more volatile and lethal approach, with curses that had the intention to maim. Harry produced a shield before sidestepping to the left, his wand contorting in a series of quick motions. A multitude of unidentifiable hexes slammed themselves against the hastily erected shield of Dumbledore, who recoiled and twisted out of the way, barely dodging the onslaught.

A colourless spell emanated from Dumbledore's wand and flew towards Harry. He conjured a shining silver shield, surveying Dumbledore with narrowed eyes as he did so. A deep, gong-like note reverberated out as the spell collided with the shield - an oddly, chilling sound. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was surprised that his opponent knew such a counter-spell but pushed all further thoughts out of his mind as three rapid-fire Stunners appeared from behind the shield and were sent at Mad-Eye before Harry turned to him.

Dumbledore whipped his wand forward, a jet of silver escaping the end. Harry brought his own across his body in a wide, sweeping movement. The grass beneath him seemed to grow as the young wizard was covered head to toe in a protective green cushioning of plant. The silver spell hit the plant but did no visible damage. Both Mad-Eye and Dumbledore opened fire upon the makeshift shield, but although their attacks blasted chunks out of the grass shell, more vegetation appeared to cover and replace the damage. Mad-Eye had just begun the incantation for the Firestorm Curse when the grass protection exploded outwards. Both men erected shields to protect themselves from the flying debris when they saw Harry strike.

The sharp tang of ozone permeated the air as Dark magic left Harry's wand and spiralled towards Dumbledore. The Headmaster's eyes widened as he recognised the magic and his wand whipped through a figure of eight motion just as the curse impacted. Immediately, Dumbledore felt a foreign intrusion in his mind, the result of Harry's spell. Alien thoughts screamed at him to submit, to lie down, to give up and to yield, yet he began the counter-curse to nullify the effects. Seconds passed, Alastor barely covering for the both of them before, with a final stabbing movement, the curse was lifted, only for another Dark spell of a different kind but similar calibre to cloud his vision.

Acting on sheer instinct alone, Dumbledore brought his wand down with a slicing motion and the Dark spell fragmented into pieces before disappearing completely. Mad-Eye had been assaulted with a never ending chain of Body-Binders and Incarceration Curses mixed with a cocktail of Stunners whilst this had been happening, his wand slashing and spitting shields to keep them at bay. Instantly, Harry pivoted and fired off another Dark curse at Dumbledore. An orange coloured double helix arc hurtled like a juggernaut towards Dumbledore, who scowled in disapproval as he had to conjure a shield to protect himself once more. A spear of lime green was flung towards Mad-Eye, before Harry covered himself with a Dark shield. Harry was unrelenting in his brutal attacks, turning towards Dumbledore again as he suddenly crossed wand and sword, a determined, almost savage look carved upon his face.

The_ boom_ of thunder sounded as a bolt of lightning erupted from where metal met wood, arcing clear of Harry as it twisted and turned at blinding speed towards Dumbledore, who conjured two large rocks to bear the brunt of impact before raising a stone shield in place around him. The lightning, spitting and fizzing, hit the shield, an acrid small produced as sparks flew off, the stone screeching in protest as the supercharged line of light attempted to melt its way through to Dumbledore. The Headmaster felt sweat beginning to form on his brow as Harry advanced, the man grimacing as he struggled to keep the katana crossed atop the wand. The intensity of heat that Dumbledore felt from the attack was phenomenal; Harry did not do this. The Harry he knew used the Dark Arts in the majority of attacks, and he was never this inventive nor innovative. A spell of this grade and complexity in knowledge was incredibly advanced, not to mention lethally volatile; one simple mistake saw the caster facing his own weapon inversely, the result usually being that said caster was fried and ripped in two simultaneously.

Suddenly the lightning abruptly stopped and Dumbledore looked up just in time to see Harry slash his katana to his right, bisecting a jinx that had come from Mad-Eye. Apparently, he had escaped Harry's unknown curse-spear. Dumbledore took full advantage of the momentary relapse in duelling, and sought to turn the tables, jabbing his wand downwards. Dumbledore watched a purple light snaked its way across the ground, heading towards Harry. The ground beneath Harry exploded.

Harry jumped and cast a Levitation Charm on himself just as the light detonated underneath him, before sending a Banishing Spell towards the now ruined earth. The resulting effect was profound as Harry was flung high into the air, twisting as he flew over his two opponents. Dumbledore observed with an arched eyebrow at this near-superhuman display of acrobatics, marvelling at the fact that Harry still managed to possess the concentration and dexterity to form a shield to protect himself, before directing the tip of the sword downwards. Yellow hoops burst from the end, targeting the two remaining fighters. Dumbledore and Mad-Eye blew them out of existence just as Harry touched down lightly on the ground. As he blasted the last hoop into smithereens, Dumbledore saw that Harry's sword was cracked and smoking slightly, the intricate runes running along the length of the blade starting to deform and melt. The owner seemed to have noticed this as well. Moving swiftly, Dumbledore transfigured a rock into an ice spear and hurled it at Harry, just as Mad-Eye whipped his wand and yelled:

"_Mutilo!_"

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Dumbledore watched his ice spear and the Mutilation curse hurtle towards their target in deadly synchrony. With seemingly inhuman velocity, Harry twirled the damaged katana and pointed it towards the ground.

"_Terrus Altorium!_"

The ground rose up in a series of cracks and broken pieces and clumped together into a large lump to intercept the ice spear; but the movement had left Harry exposed to Mad-Eye's curse and although a shield came up, it was at an awkward angle, not enough to deflect or even hinder the oncoming spell. The curse swept through an open guard and slammed hard into Harry's exposed back.

Harry gave a roar of pain as the curse took hold, ripping his clothing and skin to shreds. Crimson blood immediately welled up and splattered the floor.

"CONSTANT FUCKING VIGILANCE POTTER!" Mad-Eye crowed his victory as he sent the same curse twice more. Harry gave a snarl of rage as he swept the katana clumsily at the curses, just managing to parry them away, as he clutched his damaged body. A shield saved him Dumbledore's Stunner, produced with milliseconds to spare. Dumbledore watched as his battered and weakened opponent quickly flicked his wand over his back, a blue light glowing temporarily before it subsided. Harry's face, twisted in an ugly grimace as he struggled against the pain, became less contorted as the spell took hold, steely determination settling over the cut and scratched features.

Harry unleashed another curse at Dumbledore, before turning to Mad-Eye. Dumbledore swung his wand in a clockwise motion, the resulting effect being that Harry's curse was re-directed back at him. Harry, just evading a Stunner from Mad-Eye, turned in time to see his own repelled spell crash into his face.

Dumbledore winced slightly as he saw Harry's head whiplash violently backwards, the resounding _crack_ audible. Mad-Eye attempted to take advantage of this and fired multiple Stunners in rapid succession, but Harry, in his disorientated and befuddled state was still astonishingly capable of defending himself and sparked up a shield to take them all.

The now almost destroyed katana was twirled again and the mass of rock and mud was swept towards Dumbledore and Mad-Eye. The elder wizard Transfigured it all into metal shards and Banished them towards Harry. The man in question had just launched an over-powered Stunner at Mad-Eye before a wall of ice materialised in front of him. The metal shards pierced the wall and it shattered but almost instantly the debris weaved itself into a cocoon around Harry. The other two wizards shot spells into the whirring mess but each spell was intercepted by a block of ice or metal. This happened for some time, until Mad-Eye said:

"_Incarcerous!_"

The tornado around Harry exploded outwards with a scream of fury.

The conjured black ropes disintegrated as a lethally sharp dust composed of fragments of metal and ice shredded them. Dumbledore's eyes widened as he recognised the tactic that another powerful - though more powerful than Harry - Dark wizard used and stabbed his wand forward, a wall-like shield of no colour appearing in front of himself and Mad-Eye. The dust hit the shield as Dumbledore twisted his wand, siphoning the assault to the right. But what the Headmaster didn't expect was for the dust to suddenly switch direction and return around the back.

Instantly, Mad-Eye used the same spell but he wasn't quick enough. Razor sharp pieces of debris sliced their way through the ex-Auror's arm and with a grunt of pain, Mad-Eye Moody went down. Abruptly, the metal-ice attack vanished, and an overpowered Stunner hit a downed Mad-Eye in the head. He keeled over.

The Headmaster's eyes suddenly increased with twinkle at the fall of his last comrade, though it wasn't friendly; cold fury replaced the kind, grandfatherly features that most people saw. This was a side of Albus Dumbledore that few had seen and lived to tell the tale.

Dumbledore was inexorable he struck out with wand and a wall of fire steamed towards the now-invisible Harry Potter. The Headmaster watched as the vaguely humanoid shape was consumed by fire, the arm holding the wand slashing desperately in its attempt to protect the human it was attached to. Dumbledore saw with grim satisfaction that Harry was clearly struggling to throw of the burning mass, his movements desperate and erratic. They ceased suddenly as a white glow covered younger man's prone form. The Headmaster fired off another spell towards him and was surprised to find that the man managed to bring up another shield to reflect it away, before unleashing another Dark Curse. Dumbledore conjured another protection which held as the curse impacted.

Dumbledore cancelled his shield just in time to see Harry Potter appear on the ground, heavily injured. Burns covered a huge majority of Harry's face and arms - in fact almost all visible skin was plastered with disfiguring purple scorch marks. Clearly suffering and in an immense amount of pain, he attempted to get up, his movements unsteady and uncertain. The grass beneath him was heavily coated with blood and the few parts of the man's unburned face were pale and weeping crimson. Vivid green eyes met electric blue ones as Harry turned his ruined head towards Dumbledore.

The Headmaster gave a purposeful sweep of his wand, a turquoise shell emitting from the end. Halfway to Harry it ploughed into a trident of fire. An explosion ripped across the area as magic reacted with itself. Dust and debris were swept up into the air as Dumbledore recovered, reforming itself into a hideously terrifying monster of gargantuan proportions. Dumbledore calmly pointed his wand at the crude contraption of attack and it disintegrated into dust.

Dumbledore saw that Harry was breathing hard, the heavy wounds now affecting him majorly. He was leaning on his sword, trying to get up once more, panting in erratic, frantic gasps. His eyes flashed towards Dumbledore.

For a moment, something passed between them. Hate? No. Fear? Definitely not. Wariness and respect? Perhaps. As Dumbledore raised his wand again, Harry spoke, the sound of a distorted voice coming from his destroyed throat.

"I'll be back."

And as the red light sped towards him, Harry stood as he dropped the Japanese sword onto the ground, and Disapparated away, the katana lying broken in two where it fell as Harry's parting _crack_ intermingled with the numerous _pops_ that sounded with the arrival of others.

* * *

"FUCK!"

Harry roared with anger and pain as he appeared in a deserted Muggle warehouse. During his own time, this had been a war hangar used by the Muggles during the Second World War, but had since been disused and forgotten about. He fell to his knees as he let himself succumb to the pain.

The duel he had just had had taken a lot out of him. Harry certainly hadn't expected for Dumbledore to fight the way he had done – it was almost as if the Headmaster wanted him dead!

_He probably does. After all, you're meant to be a supporter of Voldemort here._ A voice whispered in his head.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of those thoughts. Right now he had more pressing matters. Gingerly, he withdrew his wand from his trouser pocket and conjured a mirror.

He looked like a fucking monster.

Burns covered the majority of his face, the welts now swollen up and incredibly red raw. Some of the cuts were split open and were bleeding freely, the crimson blood leaking down in small rivers across his face. His eyebrows had been singed off and parts of his hair was a smoky grey colour, the fire having removed the pigment. He raised a hand to touch it and found that it came off in clumps.

"Fuck you Dumbledore!" he growled.

The Armour Charms he had had the foresight to cast upon himself had held out against the fire attack, saving his torso and waist down from the burns. His arms however were a different matter. Peeling skin and more red welts adorned him. And to fuck with him further, the pain was starting to set in.

Muttering furiously, Harry started to cut the fabric away from his body. Once he had done so, his battered body finally succumbed to the pain and exhaustion and he fell asleep on a hastily conjured pillow.

* * *

Harry awoke to the afternoon sun filtering in through the holes in the hangar. Propping himself up on his elbows, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had slept through the morning and it had been rough - the pain of the burns had kept him up the majority of the time, the weeping wounds sticking to the pillow he had Transfigured, then ripping open when he moved to make himself comfortable. In short, it was a tumultuous sleep.

Sitting up properly, he grabbed the mirror again and looked at his reflection. Harry hadn't bothered with healing the wounds before he slept, as his veteran experience in his career as a soldier had taught him that the wounds had to bleed to let them seal themselves. Letting the body heal itself was the best way of recovering; using spells only made you dependent on them. On the up side, his hair had grown back to normal.

However, the burns were another matter. After removing the clothing from his body, Harry had made some ice which he then smothered himself with. The result was that although he swore for a very long time due to a combination of the stabbing cold and the pain from his tender skin. They did eventually die down, but it still hurt like a bitch.

Shaking himself free from the arms of Morpheus, Harry seized his wand and cast a series of charms on himself, so as to give a diagnostic on his condition. He came back as positive with the wounds, though the burns were borderline positive-negative and would need further attention. Deciding that now was the time to deal with his injuries with magic, Harry swept his wand over the parts of his body that needed attention, healing himself with a soft golden light, an advanced medical spell he picked up early on in the war. The red-coloured skin vanished, the normal alabaster now returning. Feeling better, if a little tender, he grabbed the snack bars he had taken from the Dursleys and wolfed them down.

He dressed quickly, the plan in his mind consuming his every thought. It was risky, insane even, but it might just work. If they had a Special Forces in the DoM in his universe, the odds were high that they'd be one here. If not, he was screwed.

End of story.

Harry quashed the pessimistic thoughts as he swept his wand over his body. Glamour Charms covered his being as he made himself into a street dealer, dressed in a Transfigured shabby overcoat, peaked cap and a cigar. Happy with his disguise, Harry walked over to the back of the hangar, where the fuel cabin was. As expected, there were containers full of aircraft fuel lining the back wall, several of which he picked up and shrunk, placing them in his pocket, before Apparating with a small 'pop' to Diagon Alley.

Noise assaulted his eardrums, the hustle and bustle of the Alley in full flow. Traders were in the market stalls, trying to sell and barter with customers, while shop fronts gleamed and were displayed with products to entice the public inside. Harry smiled nostalgically as he stepped foot in the first real Wizarding World place he had been in three years.

It was like returning home. Part of him wanted to stay, to explore, to go over the places he had been before he had been incarcerated in his universe. But another part of him told him he had a job to do, and that this could wait until later.

Harry shoved his gnarled hands into his pockets as he chomped down on the cigar. The crowd parted to make way for the moving man, whose destination was the Ministry of Magic. Harry eventually got to the doors to the entrance of the Ministry and went inside.

The large hall of the Atrium spanned out before him, fireplaces lining the sides along a polished hardwood floor. It was relatively busy in here, with mild traffic passing through the fireplaces but many people moving around the other end of the Atrium. Harry walked slowly, eyes flitting around the area; there were many escape routes, but too many people to guarantee getting out without a fight. He spied a group of Aurors by the canteen and made a mental note that if it did hit the fan, they'd be on their way out first.

He moved over towards the security guard, who was eying him suspiciously from his desk. Holding his hands out, Harry then reached into his pockets and withdrew the fuel cans that he'd taken from the aircraft hangar.

"Err, need ta see Afur Weasley." Harry said slowly to the man, in a Mundungus Fletcher-ish accent. "Got sum cans 'ere, but dunno what's zactly in 'em. 'Eard he worked 'ere and finked he migh' wanna see 'em."

It was dreadful attempt to sound like someone who lived with the market people but passable as the security guard, named Eric, shook himself free of surprise and called over one of the Aurors. It was Amelia Bones.

_Of all the sodding people he could've picked, it had to be her. _Harry thought.

Bones came over and looked oddly at Eric.

"Yes?"

"I need you to take… this fellow to _Arthur_ Weasley." said Eric slowly, pronouncing 'Arthur' clearly and how it should. Harry thought then that Eric was a snobbish git."He's needed to inspect these cans."

"Fine. Shall I take him now?" Bones asked.

"Please." replied Eric.

"Err, can I leave me cans 'ere. It'll be much easier than carrying 'em." Harry asked. Now that Bones was here, he had to get her out of the equation. And that meant the complete and utter disregard of subtlety. Eric nodded and so Harry withdrew them, took off the Shrinking Charms and placed them twenty feet away from Eric and a fireplace.

Harry's plan was to make up the excuse to see the Weasley patriarch, then actually go down to the Department of Mysteries, go in, get his gear, get out and for no-one to be none the wiser. Except, now that Bones was accompanying him, he had to get rid of her.

Bureaucrats. How Harry hated them.

Harry followed Bones to the lift that led up to various Department levels. As the doors opened, Harry gestured inside.

"After you."

Bones gave a stiff nod and swept in. Harry smirked as he walked in and the doors closed. Time for the action.

A Stunning Spell left his wand and hit a clueless Amelia Bones in the back. She crumpled with a gasp and Harry caught her as she fell. It wouldn't be good to leave a senior Auror lying unconscious in the lift he would vacate. He had just seized her armpits when the lift came to an abrupt halt and the doors opened.

_PING!_

The people that had been outside talking made their way into the lift but stopped when they saw disguised Harry holding a known unconscious Auror. The area was completely silent as Harry mentally swore and the Ministry workers stared in shock. Another second and the wands were out.

Harry cast the strongest shield he knew as he dropped Bones and whipped out his wand in a flash. Several spells slammed into it but did no harm. Harry cancelled the shield and sent Body-Binders and Stunners out into the hallway. Some of the Ministry employers were hit, others were not. Harry dived for the lift button after shoving Bones out into the corridor, repeatedly punching the Level Ten as he produced another shield. Mercifully, the doors closed and the lift moved once more. Harry slumped to the floor as he wiped his face with a grubby hand. This was going to the shits; he had been found with an unconscious Auror, a well respected one at that, and had then Stunned or incapacitated numerous Ministry staff. If he was right and the Ministry wasn't incompetent, a few teams of Aurors would be being sent right now.

The lift doors clanged open as the disembodied voice said that he had arrived at the Department of Mysteries level, but Harry paid it no heed as he shot like a bullet across the polished black stone floor. Skidding slightly, he turned a corner and continued sprinting towards the door which would lead him to the heart of the Department of Mysteries. His time here in his fifth year had shown him only a small part of what the Department actually was. During that time, Harry and his friends had engaged in battle with the Death Eaters in only the experimental side of the domain of the Unspeakables. There was much more, and as Harry ran along further, he passed many doors, some of which he had entered, others he had not.

However, his marathon run came to a screeching halt as he heard voices. Halting, Harry was bent double with the enormous stitch in his side whilst looking for a hiding place. Deciding that the shadowed gap between the jutting out parts of the wall would have to do, Harry rapped his wand on his head and melted into the darkness as the sensation of a runny egg went down his neck. His body took on the exact texture and colouring of the wall as he positioned himself as silently as possible.

The voices became clearer as the owners came nearer and Harry controlled his breathing. Many a time a foolish combatant gave away their position due to loud breathing. Eventually, Harry could distinguish what was being said.

"It's a difficult thing... of course no-one's ever tried it to be perfectly honest..." said a deep, masculine voice.

"But that's it! If no-one else has, why not us? We could make history in the writing..." said an anxious, needy-sounding voice.

_Hang on, _thought Harry. _I recognise that voice. That's Bode. The other one must be Crockett._

Some more of the conversation had passed as Harry heard this and in fact, the two speakers stopped directly in front of him.

"I don't know," sighed the man Harry now identified as Crockett. "It could be dangerous - you yourself know that dangers of tampering with the soul, mind and body... it's not healthy..."

"Look," said the ratty-faced Bode. "It can be done. Project Lazarus has been my life's work and I'll be damned if it gets flushed down the drain."

_ Project Lazarus?_ The name sounded familiar to Harry. Lazarus? It definitely was familiar. But before Harry could anymore thought on the subject, he had a sudden overwhelming urge to sneeze.

_Oh, this cannot be happening!_

There was no way he was going to get found out by a sneeze; it was too bloody cliché, especially after all the work and pain he had put in and suffered for this. Harry cursed his body for trying to betray him as he held his nose. The urge got stronger and stronger and still Bode and Crockett were arguing.

"I think that it'd be best if you spoke with M," said Crockett loudly, overriding Bode's arguments. "I will say no more on the matter." And with that the man strode off.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows at the mention of M. M was the Chief Unspeakable and was only referred to if completely necessary. But by now, Harry was seriously struggling now to contain his sneeze as he heard Bode mutter "Tosser." at Crockett's retreating form. Crockett had disappeared and Bode was beginning to walk away when Harry had to take a breath.

"_Ahh... Atchoo!_"

The sneeze echoed loudly down the corridor and Harry winced. His position was blown wide open. Almost instantly, Bode whipped round, wand held tightly.

"Who's there?" he called out sharply. The thin man walked back towards where he had been previously, eyes darting around trying to find the hidden listener. Harry gripped his wand as he twisted and fired.

Bode only had the time for his eyes to widen before he was propelled down the corridor. He landed on his back heavily, the _thud _echoing just as the sneeze had done. Harry dispelled all the spells he had cast on himself and ran over to Bode. He still had a pulse but was stirring feebly, evidently on the edge of unconsciousness. Harry hit him with a Stunner before leaving the man there. Another corner was up ahead, and judging by his previous experience of just avoiding people at the last minute, Harry decided to take it slowly.

Walking down the corridor, Harry padded silently along, careful not to make any noise whatsoever. Looking back, he drew his wand before turning forward. This was an insane plan - courageous - but insane. The odds said that he would fail and end up dead, in Azkaban or worse. Harry couldn't have given a flying fuck for those odds. He would succeed... or die trying.

Famous last words.

As he turned to corner and came face-to-face with a very familiar blast from the past.

The man he knew as Sigma seven.

The enormous man gaped at Harry, who was still disguised by Glamours.

Harry blinked.

_Well, fuck me now and call me a monkey's uncle..._

Mentally, Harry sighed. He was up shit creek without a paddle.

And both he and Sigma seven knew it.

"Who the fuck are you?" roared Sigma seven, spittle flying from his mouth as he recovered from his temporary stupor. Harry almost smiled at the customary greeting; that was something he'd never forget. But instead of answering and trying to word his way out, he took the rash approach.

Harry took on the man who had made him a soldier.

The red of a Stunner flew from his wand at virtually point-blank range, but Harry was fighting the man who had made him what he was. The shield was up quicker than he could think, but he was already twisting to avoid his own jet of red light. A multitude of curses came from Sigma seven, indiscriminating in choice of whether to subdue or kill.

This was the only man on the planet more paranoid than Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry narrowly avoided an Organ-Expeller as he fired back three Stunners. He didn't want to harm Sigma seven, who seemed to have no qualms about harming him. The deadly duel continued. Harry decided to lash out with advanced magic, casting a couple Concussion Curses, to which Sigma seven produced a shield that absorbed them both and fired them back. Harry let a Dark Shield take the blows before his wand flashed again, flinging Paralysis Curses and Dark Incapacitation Spells everywhere. The only way to take down Sigma seven was to distract him and Harry prayed this would work...

But it didn't happen. Sigma seven was still on his feet as he dodged Harry's attack and shot a very fast Concussion Curse back. Harry was just about to bring up a shield to reflect it when he remembered a certain spell that he had invented. Allowing Sigma seven's curse to get closer, Harry raised his left hand and murmured so Sigma seven couldn't hear:

"_Voltararo!_"

A purple ring of energy appeared in his left palm and as the curse came nearer, Harry drew it back. His aim was true as the curse smacked into the ring and was stuck fast. Still using the momentum from his movement, Harry spun three hundred and sixty degrees before firing the ring and the curse within it back to Sigma seven. The elder man managed a brief look of surprise before another shield emitted from his wand. The purple ring of energy and the curse smashed into the shield; Harry's spell and the shield disappeared with a _pop_ but the curse sped on into Sigma seven's chest. The huge man crumpled to the ground, wand falling from his hand and clattering.

Immediately, Harry ran over and checked for a pulse. He found one and heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't want Sigma seven badly injured, just out of the way. Not wanting the man to wake up soon, Harry muttered a quick apology and then punched Sigma seven in the face. He had just propped Sigma seven against the wall, when he heard a voice.

"OI! What d'you think you're doing?!"

Harry turned to see an Unspeakable hurrying towards him, wand out. He took off, running towards the room he needed to find.

"Hey! Stop! _Stupefy!_"

The let of red light flew down the corridor, but impacted on Harry's blue shield. The man himself was on his toes, running without abandon towards his goal. More spells were thrown his way but Harry brought up more shields returned fire. This of course attracted more attention, and before he knew it, Harry had a nice little band of Unspeakables on his tail.

They threw spells at him with a ferocity that surprised even him. None hit him except for one just as he turned the corner. Harry kept running, still flinging spells over his shoulder as he raced on down the corridors. People dropped like sacks of potatoes as his spells hit them, and still he ran. Left, right, straight on, second right, left, left again. Onwards Harry went until he entered the doors that would let him into the room he sought.

It looked like a Muggle construction site.

Wizards and witches in green and yellow robes – builders and engineers respectively – were walking around, assessing the structural layout of the building and swapping papers. The DoM Special Operatives section hadn't been built yet.

_Oh, shit…_

If there was no Special Operatives, then that meant there were no rooms. But that was impossible. Harry remembered the Chief Unspeakable of the DoM saying that in the unlikely occurrence of being flung into another universe, one would still be able to access their room due to the room being suspended in space and time, via some mumbo-jumbo science bullshit, but the bottom line was it therefore enabed anybody with the right passcode from any universe to access the room.

Harry's problem was that to enter the room, he needed a keypad to enter his unique passcode.

There wasn't a keypad.

Frustration came to the forefront of his mind as Harry thought hard. If there wasn't a keypad, he couldn't enter the room. He needed the keypad. He looked at the usual place where the keypad had been in his universe and found that particular spot was absent of anything.

_Merlin above…_

Harry moved towards the nearest engineer in yellow robes and tapped him on his shoulder.

"Excuse me mate, but where's the keypad? I can't find it." he asked innocently.

"The left wall, between the two pillars. We had to move it." was the reply.

"Cheers." said Harry. That had gone smoothly; no questions asked as the engineer was so engrossed in his work he presumed Harry was one of them. He had just turned to leave when the engineer subconsciously decided that he did want to now why Harry had asked.

"Err, who are you?" said the engineer to Harry's back.

Harry turned around.

"New member. Joined yesterday."

But Harry had noticed that the engineer's face had gone white and that the man was gibbering. He frowned, wondering why the man's behaviour had turned so strange so suddenly, when the reason dawned on him.

_The Glamours had worn off…_

Harry stared at his own hands and saw indeed the gnarled ones were replaced with his own. It must have been the spell that clipped him that removed the Glamours. Cursing, he turned back to the engineer and saw others had noticed.

"_Harry Potter?_"

"_What?_"

"It's Harry Potter!"

"Impossible!"

Not good.

Harry drew his wand and fired off two quick Stunners. The red lights found their mark on two engineers that had also drawn their wands. Harry then repeatedly fired Stunners on the rest of the people in the room. It was surprisingly easy; most were rooted to the ground where they stood in shock until they were knocked unconscious. It was when there was only one builder left that the Unspeakables finally caught up.

"Gotcha! Now, stay whe- _oh shit, it's Harry Potter!_"

Harry whirled around and cast a mass Blinding Charm. A white flash bang issued from the end of his wand, resulting in the majority of everyone in the room covering their eyes and yelling. Harry cast even more Stunners, desperately trying reach the keypad between the pillars. Bounding over a fallen body, he ran flat out towards it.

He never saw the purple light that connected with his ankles.

Harry fell forward onto his face, skidding across the floor. Dust and dirt worked its way into his clothes as seething with anger, he turned around to see a young woman with ginger hair and green eyes blazing with hatred, her wand levelled at his face.

Suddenly, Harry's head exploded in pain as he felt a foreign intrusion fly through his Occlumency shields. Mentally screaming, he felt the anger and hate surface at the sight of the woman in front of him.

_Kill…_

Unable to stop the movements, another consciousness took control of his body and began to cast the Killing Curse.

Harry was stupefied. How in the fucking name of Merlin was this happening? He didn't want to kill the women, but something within him that he had no knowledge of did. Harry struggled some more against whatever it was and gained control just as his mouth finished the incantation.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry twitched his wrist and the curse flew off centre, slamming into a concrete pillar. The woman had ducked and Harry rolled towards her just as she got to her knees.

She opened her mouth to speak but Harry had already tackled her. Pinning her to the grand, he wrested her wand away before hitting her point-blank with a Stunner. Sighing, he thought that she looked familiar, before shaking the thought from his mind.

The experience in his mind had been scary. There was something inside of him that had reached his shields, something that he thought to be impossible. Making a mental note to look into it later, Harry gave one last glance at the unconscious woman who had almost died at his hand for no reason, before he got up and walked quickly over to the keypad. Flipping the catch down, the number pad came out. He tapped in:

Four. Eight. Seven. Zero. Zero. Two. Nine.

A monotonous voice then said:

"State your unique code."

"Delta forty two." Harry answered.

The catch flipped back up on its own accord. Suddenly, another group of Unspeakables burst in.

"Freeze!"

Spells flew across the room just as a door materialised in front of Harry. Seizing the handle, he didn't even bother to use a shield or cast a spell as the people ran at him. He yanked the door open, and dived inside. The Unspeakables were almost there just as Harry righted himself. Holding his arm steadily, he pointed his wand at the door.

_Colloportus Maximus Fortium!_

The door slammed shut with a squelching sound, sealing. The spell Harry had used was a much stronger one compared to the original, keeping occupants out indefinitely. He heaved a sigh of relief as he realised what he had achieved.

He had done it.

He had managed to get to his room.

_His Special Forces room._

Harry grinned. He had to - after all, against all odds, he had made it.

Time to get started.

Moving swiftly, Harry passed over the remains of the last pieces of food he had eaten in here, an empty pizza box and half-full bottle of coke. Both were over three years old, and the smell was terrible. Gagging, Harry flicked his wand and Vanished the mess. He did not need his place looking like a tip.

Glancing around the room, he saw that it all needed cleaning. The banging on the door outside was still going on. Ignoring it, he swept his wand in grand sweeps. Instantly, the room was tidied up. The dislodged armchair returned to its place by the wall. The other food wrappers and contents disappeared. The TV flew back up to its place on the cabinet.

Then Harry turned to the huge steel door that covered the wall.

Behind that door was what he needed to do what he did best.

Fight.

And win.

Harry walked towards the door and grabbed the huge ships wheel that acted as a lock. Tapping his wand against the middle and uttering a password, he used both hands and turned it precisely thirty seven degrees anticlockwise, then ninety six degrees clockwise, before finally heaving it a huge three hundred and twelve degrees anticlockwise. With each turn a _click_ sounded, and when the final one did, the door gave the first groan of steel that it had done in a long time, and swung outwards.

Harry smiled as he walked inside. Feeling on the wall, he found the cable that turned on the light. He pulled it sharply. The light flickered, once, twice, before the inside of the wall was illuminated in a yellow light, clearly displaying the contents of the room.

It was an armoury that would have made hardened US Ministry troops cry.

There were weapons everywhere. Guns, swords, knives, dismantled bombs and explosives, ones that weren't dismantled, spare wands, potions that were unidentifiable but highly dangerous – you name it, it was probably there. However, it was organised. Muggle weapons were on the right side, Magical weapons were on the left.

But on the back wall, displayed in all their glory, were the crème de la crème of Harry's weapons and armour. Three dragon hide scabbards hung from a dragon hide harness that was to be strapped around the chest. A black T-shirt and trousers hung from a peg, both items smothered in Armour Charms. A black jumpsuit was to the left, again covered in the same charms.

Beneath the jumpsuit was a jacket-like item of clothing, made of a glittering substance. In fact, this glittering substance was actually dragon scales from a Hungarian Horntail. Underneath the scales was skin from a Chimera and a Graphorn. In short, this jacket protected Harry from the majority of spells and curses, Unforgivables and a few select others being the only magicks to penetrate the heavy protections.

Harry quickly went to the clothes and stripped off. The clothes he had been wearing were disintegrating with wear, and the underclothes were tatty. He grabbed the black T-shirt and pulled it on, before the trousers followed them. Reaching down, he took the pair of boots from under a bench. These were made from the same material as the jacket, and like the jacket, were lightweight so as not impede manoeuvrability or speed. Rapidly, he put them on and laced them up, before standing and donning the jacket. Even after all these years, it fit perfectly. Harry gave a dark grin as the banging outside the room continued. No-one could get in here unless he permitted it. And that wasn't happening at all. Zipping up his jacket, he picked up the harness and slung it round his back. Adjusting it, he took a strap in each hand and pulled it to a snug fit. His wand went into a holster on the left side of his chest. Once he was satisfied with his attire, and its practicality, Harry turned to his best weapons.

Other than his wand, Harry had used a vast range of weaponry against Voldemort's forces in his original universe. One crossed over the other on the wall, there was his pride and joy: a pair of the finest Japanese katanas. A gift from someone known as El Tejón, they were forged in the deepest pits of Nippon by goblin hands. Imbibed with ancient and deadly magic, they were capable of acting just like wands, and although less powerful, they had saved his life many times. In a war against wizards, using Muggle weapons of which they had little or no knowledge of was a huge advantage. The one he had used against Dumbledore had been a Transfigured copy, hastily etched with some of the runes he could remember. But these were the real deal - runes covered the first third of the blade and the entire hilt. The edge and point were infinitely sharp. With them, Harry was unstoppable... at least in his opinion.

As Harry lifted the katanas from the wall and placed each one into the respective scabbard on his back, the shape they made being much like a metal 'X', his eyes wandered to the weapon that had been a gift from Albus Dumbledore of his universe; the Sword of Gryffindor. The ruby-hilted blade shimmered slightly as Harry picked it up, admiring it. Like the katanas, this had saved him many times in the field of combat and he wasn't going to be without it just yet. It joined the crossed Samurai swords, sliding into the scabbard that went down the middle of his back.

Next up was the strange baton that was next to Gryffindor's sword. Fifty centimetres in length, at least thirty of that was glass. This was a Battle Rod, a necessary piece of equipment for any Special Forces operative. An explosive substitute for a wand, it was to be used with extreme precaution, for only sheer magical energy entered the glass part to be released on command. If touched, the glass released the energy onto the person or object that had made contact. As with all his other weapons, Harry was proficient at using it. It went to the long sheath on his left thigh.

A spare wand sat above the Battle Rod. Cedar, dragon heartstring, twelve inches and unyielding, Harry had only used it a few times, but it had done to job. It joined the holster on right side of his chest.

Then there were the Muggle weapons. A Walther PPK with a silencer stared up at Harry, as did a Beretta 92F. He picked up both, strapping the holsters to his waist. An M27-IA4 outfitted with a scope, a fore grip and silencer was shrunk down and was placed in a small pouch beside the two handguns. The ammo was stored in one of the inner jacket pockets, shrunk down and lightweight for room, though when it was placed into the guns, the Lightweight and Shrinking Charms disappeared. A thin, unbreakable (at least, so far...) wire went into one of the jacket pockets. Fingerless leather gloves went on his hands as Harry looked for the last item that would make him what he was - a soldier.

More banging went on which was ignored still as Harry searched. Eventually he found it beside a RPG.

_His _helmet. Or facemask.

Picking it up, Harry stared at the tiny metal disc. It sure as hell didn't look like a facemask or helmet. At first glance, it looked more like a button. But the helmet was special, another object designed by the genius minds of the Unspeakables. It connected to the underside of one's jaw, right beneath the ear. Once in place, it was pushed once firmly, and the helmet/facemask spread out over the person's head and face, giving complete protection.

It also had some added features, such as the three modes of use. Normal Mode, which had complete protection and acted as if the mask wasn't there. Then there was Attack Mode. The inner screen showed potential weaknesses in an opponent, identified unidentified spells. The third mode was Defence Mode. This was to help locate escape routes and generally flee from wherever a person was. Harry had never used that mode. The mask also had a music system, which Harry had filled with all his favourite songs, which he played sometimes during battles, or before them to psych him up.

The banging outside and stopped now, but indistinguishable voices were heard. Harry placed the disc underneath his right ear, behind the jawbone. It attached and Harry gave it a push. Metal erupted from the disc and like water it swarmed around Harry's head. Pieces moulded together as his face was the last thing covered. His vision was not impaired in any way, and as he glanced to the left hand corner of the screen, he saw it was in Normal Mode.

Turning around, Harry searched for a mirror. Finding one, he looked at his reflection. Where there should have been eyes in the mask, there were two glowing green orbs. Harry grinned from behind hid protective helmet. They wouldn't know what hit them. Now that phase one of his insane plan was complete, Harry now had to concentrate on making sure phase two went correctly.

But just as he was about to leave, Harry caught sight of a photo on the wall. Frowning slightly, he went towards it, before recognising it for what it was.

A photo of his old team.

You see, when you join the DoM's ranks, you are put into a team. And when you are a Special Forces operative, your team is your life. You spend every waking minute training together, fighting together, relaxing together. They save your arse in the line of combat and you save theirs. You needed to have complete trust in each member, as they were your key to survival.

Out of his squad, Harry was the only one left.

His squad had been the best. No, really - they had been. They were called the 'Death Squad' for a reason and that was wherever they went, the opposition died - always. Harry looked more closely at the photo and at the people. In a squad, you had code names and you stuck to them no matter what. Harry saw himself, a gormless grin slapped on his face. Beside him was the only man who had knocked out Rubeus Hagrid - a man known to him as Tankman. Next to Tankman was the team leader, the man with the highest rank, Pericles. In front of Pericles were the jokers of the squad, the men who were the suicide runners: St Jimmy and Conquistador. Kneeling next to them was a woman known as Angel of Death, and Harry felt a bubble of anger at seeing her face. But the face that drew him in most was the blonde beauty who was laughing, her arm leaning casually on Harry's left shoulder as his arm was wrapped around her waist.

Domino.

The only lover he had had in the war.

Abruptly, Harry tore himself away from the picture and out of memory lane. It would not do to get distracted. Squeezing his eyes to force away the tears that threatened to spill from them, Harry spun on his heel and left the room. Taking his aspen wand from the holster, he swept his wand around the living area and everything within went into the armoury. He didn't want anyone who did get in to go through his stuff, and it was virtually impossible to enter the armoury. Then he tapped the keypad and the door swung shut. He went to the ship's wheel and tapped that as well. Three clicks sounded out as it went back to default lockdown setting.

Harry then withdrew a katana from his back, reaching over to get it. Twirling it in his left hand, he felt the familiar hum of power that had been absent for a long time. This was it; no going back. He'd get out of this place and head to destination number two:

Knockturn Alley.

Old allies and former foes were waiting for him. Although from another universe, Harry had the same feeling that they'd be useful again in this one. But he had to fight his way of the Ministry to get there - another plan of action would be made later. Right now, freedom was his main priority.

Swallowing, Harry asked the mask to play AC/DC's Shoot to Thrill as he stood still for a few seconds. Taking in the tunes, Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the entrance door. It was now or never. He gripped the katana tightly as he muttered:

"_Alohomora!_"

The door burst open as Harry's spell hit it, just as Brian Johnson's voice snarled in his ear.

Then all hell broke loose.


	4. Killer On The Loose

**Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowling's. This story is a work of fiction. Anything you recognise is JKR's, everything else is mine. No profit is being gained by this.**

**Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Honey, I'm hooooooooommmmmmmmmeeeeeee! Did ya miss me?!**

**Who gives two fucks?! I don't!**

**For those of you that have followed me, my profile and this story with a devoutness that is almost fucking religious, in the words of Arthur Askey - 'I thank you'. Your support, past and present, has made the shit-heap that my life has been these last few months bearable. As you might have noticed, I have gained an entirely new perspective on life in that I no longer give a flying fuck about little things anymore.**

**So to all you flamers out there, FUCK YOU! AND EXPECT TO GET AN EXPLETIVE LADEN REPLY WITHIN THE WEEK, 'COS I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHO I OFFEND NOW!**

**Ahem. Excuse me. Anyway... onto the story. Taking your views into account, this Harry will be a Light/leaning Grey Harry, possibly moving onto a fully Grey Harry. I like the idea of this Harry using the Dark Arts, but lots of you have said that there's enough Dark Harry fics out there already and you seem to want a Light Harry/Grey Harry so... sorry Wolfman212, Dark Harry won't happen but... I can accommodate your other request. Also, look out for some of Harry's slightly darker tendencies in this chapter... and the next... and the ones after that.**

**This chapter is slightly shorter but hey, with my life lately, I think you can excuse me on that account. It's gonna hot up soon though and the next chapter will focus a lot on Harry (just like the others) and will explore a lot more of his Special Forces training, which some of you don't think was highlighted enough in the previous chapters. I can understand that, but I wanted to get across that Harry is confused in this new world, and is not at full capacity. Now that he's getting used to it, say hello to some fucking awesome fight scenes.**

**As for Harry being an antihero, sort of (definitely) Deadpool-esque, I can see that happening. Perhaps I can work that in there. I **_**will **_**work it in there. Also, to those of you speculating that a massive Magical European or possible World War will be coming up... we'll see ;) **

**And to those of you who are a mite confused on how Harry accessed his gear in the new world when it was all in his original, I explained this in the last chapter, and I quote:**

Harry remembered the Chief Unspeakable of the DoM saying that in the unlikely occurrence of being flung into another universe, one would still be able to access their room due to the room being suspended in space and time, therefore enabling anybody with the right passcode from any universe to access the room.

**I hope that clears up any confusion.**

**The super long fight scene last chapter was necessary, if only to highlight some of Harry's magical abilities. As I said, next chapter explores Harry's Special Forces abilities, which are largely more Muggle and physical, but magic will be prevalent.**

**More important information is that I've taken on a new beta, the wonderful Wolfman212! Cheers to you bud for helping me out with this chapter, and you too ****xp3r1a, even with your studying! Can't thank you guys enough!**

**That's it. So, just enjoy this chapter and drop us a review. Criticism, if constructive, is gratefully received but spiteful flames are unnecessary. Expect a scathing reply.**

**Oh, and if any of you can get the reference at the end about who the person is based on, would you agree with me in saying that those books are fucking great? Enjoy the show guys!**

**PS. (Now that I'm at full fucking strength again, updates will be a lot faster. WOO HOO! HA-HA ;) so long guys!)**

**Betas: ****xp3r1a &amp; ****Wolfman212**

**Appetite for Destruction**

**Chapter Three: Killer on the Loose**

_'I was made of poison and blood, condemnation is what I understood.' - Green Day_

"And how the bloody hell did this happen?!" roared Barty Crouch Senior, spittle flying from his mouth.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, holding his aged head in an equally aged hand. The familiar beginnings of a headache were starting to make themselves known as Minister Crouch glared at him furiously from his raised position behind the rich, mahogany desk. Standing, bent almost at a ninety degree angle with his hands spread wide and splayed, Crouch was the epitome of a seething pillar of rage and fear, swirling around a thick syrup of paranoia.

After the disastrous events that surrounded the incident occurring in Privet Drive yesterday, Dumbledore had found himself having to endure Crouch's outraged interrogation on why the Ministry wasn't alerted to the re-existence of one Harry Potter. Although, in hindsight, insinuating that the Minister would have denied the return of Harry was not a wise move.

Albus Dumbledore hated the word games that came with politics. In fact, he hated politics full stop.

Which brought him back to the problem at hand. The entire Wizarding World most probably knew that Harry had been somehow resurrected by now, which in turn meant that that news was going to reach a certain Lord Voldemort very soon, if he already didn't know now. Dumbledore mentally groaned. This was not meant to happen! Harry was meant to be captured immediately, detained and handed over to the Ministry to find out how he had returned. Instead, the man had escaped after soundly beating overwhelmingly impossible odds.

But then again, the boy's very existence is an impossibility...

In truth, Dumbledore was very unnerved by how Harry had fought in that battle. It had been completely out of character and some of those spells... if Dumbledore had been looking at it from an academic perspective, he would have been immensely impressed with the ingenuity and complexity of some of the magic that had been utilised - especially the lightning curse used in conjunction with the katana.

Which brought to light a major problem. Harry had used a transfigured sword inscribed with hastily etched runes and it had held out magnificently for some truly brutal attacks. Yet Dumbledore had a niggling suspicion that Harry had used such a weapon before and was completely and utterly proficient in its use. The Harry that he had known would never have used Muggle weapons, having considered them debasing.

Nonetheless, detailed analysis of an extraordinary battle could be put away to be perused at another time. In this moment, Dumbledore had to find a way to appease a displeased Minister Crouch.

When Harry had escaped, the Aurors led by Rufus Scrimgeour and accompanied by Crouch and his personal security guard had arrived at precisely the exact moment Harry had left. Confronted with a destroyed neighbourhood, Muggle at that, and with half a dozen or so unconscious wizards and witches many of whom were familiar and part of the Ministry, Crouch had understandably exploded.

Dumbledore unfortunately happened to be on the receiving end of his rage.

A Clean-Up and Obliviator squad had been summoned to dispose of the wreckage. The entire group that had gone to capture Harry bar the Headmaster had been whisked off to St Mungo's and after Crouch's spluttered, disbelieving demands, Dumbledore had revealed that Harry Potter, somehow, had returned.

Coach's first reaction had been to laugh and tell Dumbledore to stop joking as this was a very serious situation. Then he had seen the resigned truth etched onto Dumbledore's face. And he had then asked one thing.

How?

Dumbledore had told him. Crouch had been furious. They had continued their argument in the Minister's plush office, once Crouch had returned from a very hasty and quick conference with the Muggle Prime Minister. Naturally, Crouch hadn't outright told him that a supposedly dead terrorist was now alive, but he had implied that there had been some trouble, nothing that the Ministry couldn't handle of course, and that it had been cleared up now.

Then Crouch had rounded on Dumbledore and unleashed a tirade of abuse and anger. And Dumbledore didn't stop him, because he knew that he was wrong. Wrong for charging off after Harry without a proper plan, wrong for endangering his friends and allies, wrong for his arrogant judgement of the situation that had almost cost lives.

_Aberforth was right..._

Dumbledore gave another sigh before speaking. "Barty, you have to understand - if this had been publicly known, it would have caused pandemonium. Voldemort would have struck whilst this country was in a state of sheer and utter panic. Letting out the news that Harry Potter was alive would have been disastrous."

"So going after him on a reckless solo mission was the best option, eh Dumbledore? I wouldn't send my best Hitwizards after him without some heavy support! He's a raving lunatic, hell-bent on destroying this nation on the whims of his goddamned bastard of a master and you - you! - went after him! Now, I do not care one iota if you took the bastard down once, he's dangerous! And now the entire country knows anyway! You know, thanks to the mess that's been created, I'm going to have to inform the Prime Minister of the little shit's return. The Prime Minister! The rest of Muggle Europe is on the brink of war due to manipulations and machinations of the chief Dark Tosser in the Muggle governments and when the Prime Minister knows that the Dark Lord's deadliest servant has returned, he'll want to take military action against Europe to stop them all. Do you even understand what I have had to do to prevent him declaring war on Europe? And Oh! - don't even get me started on when America's going to get involved. Goddamned Yanks think they know everything about defeating Dark Wizards. Bloody hell, Lucius Malfoy alone could have taken on Hans Dirthstein and won blindfolded, deaf and crippled! But you Dumbledore, you have landed me in a whole heap of shit, and now I've got to shovel my way out!"

Dumbledore respectfully remained silent during the Minister's speech, despite the use of vulgar language. He could empathise with Crouch completely, as others' actions had sometimes put him in predicaments that had devastating repercussions as they had not been handled extremely delicately and salvaged. But whilst Crouch had been ranting, Dumbledore's mind had been racing. A particular memory of a battle of horrendous proportions had surfaced in his mind.

_It was complete carnage._

_Complete and utter carnage._

_The metallic, almost coppery odour of freshly spilt blood hit his nostrils with all the subtlety and force of a rampaging hippogriff, easily overpowering the pungent aroma of the salty sea-sprayed wind. Deltas of crimson flowed, interconnecting to create a horrifying network of rivers of blood. The ruby-red robes of the dead fallen Aurors were almost indistinguishable from the blood-soaked terrain, appearing as lumps. Much more visible were the rich navy blue robes of Hitwizards, and the pitch black garb of the forces of Lord Voldemort: the Dark Guard, the Death Eaters and the Knights of Walpurgis._

_The Knights of Walpurgis. Voldemort's elite fighters, the crème de la crème of all his troops. They were some of the best trained, the most disciplined and the most ruthless soldiers on the planet. And they were led by Voldemort's top two._

_Harry and Bellatrix Potter._

_Together, they were singlehandedly a force almost nigh unstoppable. Together, not one person had been able to hold them back, for the sheer horrific violence and unrelenting strength of their conjoined attacks were a force of which the likes the world had never seen before in all its history. Together they had rampaged through Italy. Together they had conquered Greece, Switzerland and the Balkans._

_Together... they were unstoppable._

_And now, back to back on the magnificent ivory-white cliffs of Dover, they were together._

_Surrounded by a group of Hitwizards at least fifteen strong, the curses and hexes flew thick and fast, warping the very air around them with the heavy stench of tainted magical stew. They moved perfectly in tandem, each movement precise and accurate to such a fine degree that no spell from the Hitwizards reached them, either avoided with a fantastic display of human agility or simply batted away with high-powered shields that left them to be dealt with by other poor souls._

_Albus Dumbledore still did not understand why his former student had chosen such a Dark path._

_Dumbledore watched astounded and in despair as four of the Hitwizards were felled with a wide arc Cutting Curse, sent from Harry with a vicious horizontal slash and snarl. Blood and flesh splattered the grass liberally as the young man twisted on the spot, conjuring a shield to absorb a turquoise projectile aimed at his wife's side. Crying out with feral rage, Harry hurled separate Killing Curses at the offenders after dispersing the shield._

_By the time they reached the Hitwizards, they were already dead. Lethally thick and indeterminably sharp metallic spikes had erupted from the ground, impaling them through the entire lengths of their bodies. The person responsible for the horrific method of killing giggled loudly, her thick, black curls whipping around her face as she clutched her lover's arm for support whilst executing an evasive twist._

_Laughing wildly again, her wand spat numerous deadly curses, mirroring her husband's as together they took down an entire contingent of Aurors that had arrived as support for the outgunned Hitwizards._

_Dumbledore's fury grew. Lashing out violently with his wand, he propelled the five Death Eaters he had been duelling back thirty feet and stormed towards the 'other' Potters. Once within range, he fired off a Concussion Hex at Bellatrix, the Dark witch just twisting out of the way. Immediately, Harry brandished his wand and from it the haunting emerald of the Killing Curse emitted._

_Dumbledore twisted, his robes swirling as he flicked an Incapacitation Curse towards Harry's position. Bellatrix had opened up with three Cruciatus Curses and a Disembowelment Curse, which were followed by dual Killing Curses from Harry. Apparating away, Dumbledore conjured a ring of fire. Using it like a lasso, he gained a grip on Bellatrix's arm and pulled hard, sending the witch careening to the left away from Harry._

_The sooner they were apart, the better._

_Harry roared his rage, his wand spitting curses of death indiscriminately as his wife was treated so. He darted forward, his momentum perfectly coinciding with his wand movements as he batted away more curses directed at his wife. He slid to a halt in front of Bellatrix, raised his wand and shouted:_

_"Imperio!"_

_Dumbledore had been parrying Bellatrix's spells and as such was unable to defend himself against the Unforgivable. Instantly, a serene calm settled over him as a voice commanded him to turn his wand upon himself, and cast the Killing Curse._

_It was with a remarkable amount of effort that Dumbledore held his wand away from himself, but his resisting of the curse meant that Bellatrix's Killing Curse was on a one way uninterrupted course to his heart. The only reason he survived was because of one slightly insane, paranoid Auror named Alastor Moody jumping to his rescue, summoning a rock to take the hit._

_Dumbledore shook free from the Imperius Curse, Harry's redirected attention causing its potency to waver. Alastor engaged Bellatrix as Dumbledore fought with Harry, the latter casting curses of increasing lethality. Alastor's duel with Bellatrix edged away from the Headmaster and his former student, other smaller skirmishes filling the vacuum created. Harry bared his teeth with barely suppressed rage as his wife was lost to sight, unable to fight at her side, to protect her. His next spell was created with the express intent to liquefy organs but Dumbledore twirled the Elder Wand as if it were a baton, and the Dark curse was dispelled before it could reach him._

_"You remain ignorant to the higher and more purer forms of magic, Harry, just like your master." called out Dumbledore over the howling wind. He squinted to make out the form of the former Potter heir. "It will be your undoing, your siding with a monster."_

_Harry snarled. "The only thing that will be undone, old man, is your dignity and life as I leave you bleeding and dying on this cliff!"_

_He flicked his wand with an impossibly fast motion and Dumbledore suddenly found himself unable to move. Confusion turned to worry, which rapidly gave way to panic as the Headmaster realised what had happened._

_"That's right Albus!" Harry smirked, spinning his wand casually in his hand as he decided on Dumbledore's fate. "You're not the only one with tricks."_

_Giving the other man a contemptuous yet triumphant look, Harry raised his wand and yelled:_

_"AVADA KED-"_

_"NO!"_

_A jet of coppery blue slammed into Harry's side, causing him to scream in pain and complete three revolutions before landing in a heap on the grass._

_Neville Longbottom emerged from the undergrowth, his face both victorious and fearful. His hand never wavered as it blocked Harry's retaliatory hex, nor did his resolve break when he failed to prevent himself from being disarmed. Dumbledore watched Harry raise his own weapon again to end Neville's life when another jet of light smashed into the Dark wizard._

_This time it was Chloe Potter, twin and younger sister of the downed man. With Harry distracted, the magic affecting Dumbledore was lifted and the elder wizard found himself able to move again. His spell - designed to incapacitate - was shielded and redirected at Neville, who promptly dived away._

_His stumble was covered by his comrades, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and lastly, Chloe Potter. The latter immediately aimed a strengthened Cutting Curse at her twin, her mark true as it split Harry's cheek open. Harry snarled and struck out, a curse designed to strangle the victim with their intestines flying towards them. Hermione whipped her wand at the same time Ronald did, two Shield Charms materialising to intercept Harry's attack. Dumbledore had flung his own Blinding Charm and Vomiting Hex, the colourful display mixing with Chloe's own Bone-Breakers and Cutting Curses. Harry's curse had obliterated the Shield Charms and his own had protected him against the return attack. But Dumbledore was the only one who noticed the near-invisible spell shoot towards Chloe, blood dripping from Harry's palm as his smile matched the harshness of his wand movement._

_By the time he had begun to act, Dumbledore was too late._

_Triple Incapacitation Curses hit Neville, Ronald and Hermione as with a wrench, Chloe was yanked towards Harry. Her friends cries were useless, as were Dumbledore's spells as a shimmering turquoise dome snapped into place. Harry disarmed his sister and backhanded her viciously, before sinking a boot into her abdomen. Chloe gasped out in surprise and curled into a ball, and Harry rained kicks down on her. Snaps and crunches were heard as Harry landed each and every assault, Chloe too injured and confused to stop him. Finally, Harry bound his twin to the ground, forcing a scream from her throat as her cracked ribs were stretched._

_Dumbledore and the three young adults could only watch with despair and heart-wrenching pained faces as Harry bore down upon his twin. Giving her a look of utmost disgust, Harry spoke to her, Dumbledore hearing every word._

_"Filthy, blood-traitor whore. Die." Harry flicked his wand viciously. "Crucio flagratium!"_

_An ugly scarlet beam shot from Harry's wand and sliced through Chloe's abdomen. The young woman screamed as her own flesh and blood twisted his wand to drive the curse deeper, inflicting a horrifying, permanent injury. Chloe bucked and thrashed, her very body protesting against the pain, her limbs convulsing as her breath came in ragged screams cut off to chokes and gasps. Tear-filled eyes found twinkling blue as they begged for help that couldn't be found._

_Not for the first time in his life, Albus felt powerless. Powerless. Unable to do anything that might be of some help. He could only watch as the beam sank deeper and deeper into Chloe's flesh, the intense heat from the dark spell cauterising the wound. The smell of burning flesh floated towards him, and Dumbledore felt his own tears falling into his silvery beard._

_Then Harry ended the spell. With a last disgusted glance, he fired a Cutting Curse at his injured sister. A fountain of crimson erupted from the wound, as her life drained away onto the rocky cliff-face._

_"Take a look fools," Harry laughed insanely, gesturing with wide spread arms to the continuing battle around them. Dumbledore caught glimpses of the evil that surrounded them, but turned his attention back to the wizard before him. "You're on the losing side. You can't win. You're going to die."_

_Chloe whimpered slightly, the sound barely audible. However, it was loud enough for Harry to notice; he twisted round and his boot connected viciously with Chloe's head._

_Ronald, Neville and Hermione cried out with fear and rage as a fresh display of blood erupted from Chloe, splattering the grass beneath her. Dumbledore moved forward with his wand outstretched._

_"Harry, enough."_

_Harry laughed manically. "You care for the blood traitor fools and their insignificant lives old man. Why? Why care, when you could have the power you want?"_

_Harry's words hit Dumbledore to his core and the gleam in the young wizard's eyes told him that he knew it too. He edged away from the blood shield, and Harry stalked forwards._

_"You could have had that power," continued Harry, his lips shaped into a victorious smirk. "You could have been great, if you hadn't thrown away your dreams on the whims of mudbloods and the unworthy..."_

_Dumbledore's retreat was covered by Harry's advance. Almost at the edge of the shield, Harry leaned forward, as if two friends were sharing a secret._

_"I wonder what Gellert would think now?..."_

_Something inside Dumbledore snapped. Indescribable anger flooded his veins as his aura, a brilliant pure white, flashed to life around him. With one sweep of his wand, Dumbledore brought the blood shield crashing down. A flash of fire signalled the arrival of Fawkes to Harry's left. Caught completely off guard, pain reeling through his very being as the takedown of his blood shield vibrated to his magical core, Harry lashed out and yelled:_

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_The green light collided with the phoenix's open beak, causing the magnificent firebird to explode into yellow and orange copper flames. The light was dazzling, and Harry threw up his arms to prevent his eyes from melting from the sheer intensity of it._

_His guard was left open to Dumbledore's spell._

_Purple light wrapped itself around Harry from head to toe, enveloping him in a cocoon of magic. The casing pulsated and squeezed, forcing the life from Harry. Harry screamed in pain, his face scrunched up as he fought valiantly against the attack. Dumbledore thrust his wand forward, driving the younger wizard to his knees. He noted with no small amount of admiration that Harry still held his wand and his chin high. Bloodshot eyes stared up at him._

_"Fuck you Dumbledore." Harry ground out._

_Dumbledore broke his spell and fired a Stunner at his beaten opponent, Harry slumping over into unconsciousness. Panting heavily, his sharp blue eyes, rimmed by the famous golden half-moon spectacles, surveyed the area. He found that the battle had ceased, combatants from both sides gazing at him in either shock and horror, or awe and relief._

_Suddenly, a woman stumbled forward. Her face was a mask of pain, fear, worry and an undying love. An anguished cry ripped itself from her throat. Black curls whipped around her face as she screamed a final order, a last, longing glance sent at her fallen husband._

_"FALL BACK! RETREAT!" yelled Bellatrix._

_A hundred simultaneous pops sounded as the Dark Lord's forces retreated, followed a few seconds later by the cheers of Magical Britain's forces. Immeasurable pride and relief filled Dumbledore as he stared at his unconscious foe._

_The impossible had happened._

_Harry Potter, the Dark Lord's right hand, had been captured._

_And for the first time in a long time, Albus Dumbledore smiled._

''Albus!"

Dumbledore was brought back down to Earth from memory lane by Crouch's sharp voice.

"Barty." Dumbledore replied levelly, removing his spectacles from his crooked nose and rubbing them absentmindedly on his colourfully garish and voluminous robes.

"I asked you, what are you going t-" Crouch began to retort before he was abruptly cut off when the Minister's door flew upon and hit the wall with a resounding crash.

Moving with a speed that belied the truth of his age, Dumbledore had his wand out and trained on the cross-eyed face of a flustered Percy Weasley.

"Percy-?" Dumbledore asked confusedly, his lips pulled down into a frown, his hand falling.

"Weatherby, what is it?" Crouch interrupted irritably, his own wand having been drawn and now hanging loosely at his side.

Percy swallowed deeply before speaking in a hurried croaking voice.

"You need to come now Minister. Someone's attacking the Ministry."

Instantly, Dumbledore and Crouch turned to one another and simultaneously said:

"Potter."

* * *

_I'm gonna take you down, down, down, down,_

_So don't you fool around,_

_I'm gonna, gonna pull the trigger!_

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill..._

Harry hit the floor, rolling towards the wall whilst mouthing along to the lyrics of the song. A multitude of spells flew past where his body had previously been, splashing harmlessly against another wall. Acting fast, he swished his wand in a circular motion. The Unspeakables and Aurors that he'd been battling retreated, slightly nervous as an ominous wall of green materialised in front of them. Jumping back onto his feet, Harry shifted his katana forwards and fired off a pulse of energy towards the emerald wall.

The result was that the wall siphoned itself into a swirling vortex, hovering and shuddering in mid-air as Harry battled to hold it steady in the position he wanted. Glancing at the screen in his mask, Harry saw a red dot moving fairly swiftly towards his right. He lashed out with his wand, a jet of brilliant lilac smashing into the abdomen of an Auror that had been attempting to sneakily circumnavigate him. Said Auror dropped to the floor, not one sound passing his lips as he did so.

Harry's other opponents gave cries of rage and once again pressed forward, to which Harry responded by swiping the katana again, causing the vortex to swoop forwards, expanding rapidly outwards until it connected with the shields of his opponents, sparks flying in every direction. An almighty boom sounded out as the Aurors and Unspeakables were flung down the corridor, their unconscious bodies landing heavily upon the stone floor.

_Too many women with too many pills, yeah!_

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill,_

_I've got my gun on the trigger and I'll fire at will…_

Harry covered ground quickly, taking the reverse route to how he had got to the DoM Special Forces room. Two Aurors suddenly rounded the corner and caught him by surprise. Not deterred, Harry twirled the katana and slashed at the arm of one, simultaneously ducking under the Stunning Spell sent by the other. He kicked out at the other man's shin and harshly punched his face when he fell. Whipping his arm around to the first Auror, Harry felt a crunch as he slammed the hilt of his blade into their nose.

Two more Aurors down.

_Shoot ya down, yeah,_

_I'm gonna get you down on the bottom, girl,_

_Shoot ya, I'm gonna shoot ya,_

_Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,_

_I'm gonna shoot you down..._

Harry used the momentum from his attack to roll forward and hit the ground running. No more Aurors disturbed him on his journey to the lift. Launching himself inside, Harry sheathed his katana inside its leather holster and slammed his palm onto the button for the Atrium.

'_Now's the time to get the fuck outta here Potter_.' he thought. However, suddenly - unexpectedly - the lifts doors opened. And standing in front of Harry was Rufus Scrimgeour and three Aurors.

_For fuck's sake..._

AC/DC kept the rock going as Harry smacked two of the shellshocked men with Stunning Spells and smashed his fist into Scrimgeour's face. The grizzled, lion-maned man gave a shocked howl of pain as his nose exploded in fantastic display of crimson red liquid. The last Auror was met with a Concussion Curse that left him promptly incapacitated. Harry whirled around in response to a noise behind him, only to find a bloody-nosed Scrimgeour pointing a wand at the mask that covered his face.

"_Confringo!_"

_Bugger..._

The resulting blast threw Harry backwards at an unbelievably astonishing speed, sending him crashing through a wall into the office of a Ministry worker. Scrimgeour leapt through the whole, wand already flashing and spitting spells in Harry's direction. Dimly noting that the song was now finished, Harry killed the music and rolled sideways, shield erected and deflecting a spell sent from his older opponent. Firing one back, he jumped at Scrimgeour, bunching up his fists in the lapels of his robes and throwing him towards the desk that was between them and the other person with some effort.

Harry crossed over the floor in two quick strides and slugged Scrimgeour in the stomach, before grabbing the man's head and slamming it against the metal bust of Merlin that sat on the desk. Scrimgeour gave a howl of pain and he dropped to the floor, as Harry spun around and backhanded the unknown colleague of the Head of the Auror Department, then sheathing his wand and drawing out the Beretta. They fell backwards, hitting the wall and sliding down, their face becoming visible as they did so. Then Harry saw who it was.

It was Travers, one of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

What the fuck was he doing in the Ministry of Magic?

In his original world, Travers had been a Knockturn Alley rat, scurrying around as an information courier – a fact that had made him an invaluable resource when certain individuals in the Ministry had wanted information on other certain unsavoury individuals and had sent Harry to find him and 'persuade' Travers to divulge said information. Once Harry had found him, it was needless to say that Travers was indeed a veritable wealth of goodies once he had been encouraged to share what he knew. Harry highly doubted this was the case here.

Harry walked swiftly over to Travers and grabbed a handful of Travers' hair, whilst checking for a Dark Mark. A quick wandless spell revealed one. Anger mounting, Harry focused his attention on the pitiful excuse for a human being that snivelled at his feet. He pressed a button on the side of the faceplate so it revealed his face.

"What do you know of the Dark Lord's plans?" he snarled into the man's ear.

Travers just whimpered, presumably due the fact he was face to face with a man who was supposed to be dead and on his own side even if he were alive. Harry gave a grunt of impatience before using his meagre Legilimency skills to bulldoze his way into Travers' mind. Searching for an answer to his unanswered question, Harry found none. It looked like his suspicions were correct; Travers didn't have the same use in this world as he did in Harry's original one.

Withdrawing roughly from the violated Death Eater's mind, Harry smashed him roughly on the back of the head with the butt of the Beretta. Travers slumped slightly, dazed as Harry put the metal mask back into place, seizing the back of the man's robes and hoisting them over his head. Harry kicked Scrimgeour in the guts as the older man tried to get up, putting him down again, then kicking him in the head, rendering the veteran Auror unconscious.

Yanking open the door, Harry bundled himself and Travers outside. Spellfire immediately greeted them and Harry used Travers as a meat shield as he shoved them both along. His screen alerted him that three Aurors were rounding the next corner and he raised the Beretta over Travers' head, pulling the trigger thrice.

Three bullets impacted on the water pipe and high-pressure jets floored the Aurors that walked into them. Harry shot their legs to incapacitate them as he shoved Travers, keeping them both moving. Spells crashed into the walls in front of and behind them, none hitting Harry as he held Travers to his side.

Suddenly, Travers gave a cry of pain and collapsed. Harry hit the deck as well, looking for what the problem was. A Cutting Spell had sliced its way cleanly through the Death Eater's thigh. Harry swore as more curses swarmed up, only just missing them both. He turned and fired with the gun again, this time emptying the magazine. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he clicked in another round before grabbing Travers and hauling him to his feet.

A quintet of Aurors came around the corner.

Harry dropped Travers as quickly as he had picked him up and fired one shot. It hit an Auror in the arm and he went down with a scream. In a single fluid motion, Harry withdrew his wand and shot three separate Concussion Curses, each hitting their mark before he sprinted forwards at a blisteringly fast velocity and delivered a roundhouse kick to the face of last Auror. They slammed into wall and cracked their head against it, just before Harry slammed his fist into their face. The Auror fell, unconscious. Harry turned to the last Auror, who was in shock and bleeding on the ground from the exit wound caused by Harry's gun in his arm. He looked up at Harry with terror filled eyes, clutching his limb.

The voice that had entered his head in the Special Forces room returned with a vengeance, and Harry's hands grasped his temples as it spoke again.

_'Kill him... Make him suffer... Cause him pain... Let him DIE!'_

Immeasurable agony flooded Harry's body as it spoke and it was with gritted teeth that he stopped his hand from grabbing his knife and turning the Auror before him to a slab of human Swiss cheese.

'GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HEAD!' Harry mentally roared. He slammed the voice with his Occlumency shields and ejected it from his conscious mind. Then he cast the Stunning Spell at the terrified and bewildered Auror. The Auror slumped over in blessed ignorance. Breathing heavily and wondering what had just happened, Harry holstered the wand and dragged Travers again, ignoring the man's whimpering pleas and cries. Harry came across a door, and seeing another group of Aurors coming, burst through it, the Death Eater he held being used as a makeshift battering ram

Immediately, screams filled the air as the office workers saw a strange man in a mask dragging an injured Ministry employee along. Harry raised his gun again and fired two quick shots into the air. The desired effect was achieved as pandemonium reigned, the workers scrambling to get away from this deranged, masked madman, that held in his control one of their own who was severely injured.

Harry chucked Travers towards the enormous glass window that overlooked the voluminous expanse of space that was Atrium, seizing the man when he fell over. Looking down, he saw that beneath the window was the Atrium floor, fifty feet below them, ending with an unforgivingly solid floor.

If he breaks his bones… hey ho.

Harry threw Travers through the window.

The tinkle of smashed glass echoed, as did Travers' scream as he began his rapid descent towards an introduction of an unhealthy amount of crippling pain. More cries mingled with the Death Eater's as other Ministry workers saw the bizarre spectacle unfold, horror writ upon their faces as they watched Travers hit the floor with a sickening, nauseous, bone-snapping crunch. Harry stood impressively on the edge of the window ledge and noticed with a small smirk that a large number people were pointing up at him, having just noticed him there. Already, he could tell that they knew he was responsible for the crying mess of a man that lied pathetically fifty feet below him. Quickly, he followed Travers out of the window.

The ground moved towards him at speed and Harry cast a Cushioning Charm, landing lightly next to the moaning Death Eater.

He had broken bones. Lots, in fact.

_Oh well…_

Harry stalked over to Travers and grabbed the scruff of the man's neck, ignoring the whimpered and moaned pleas for mercy. People dived out of their way as Harry held his wand out in front of him, eyes darting furtively around the Atrium, searching for any possible threat to his escape.

Suddenly, more Aurors burst through the fleeing crowd and collectively aimed their wands at Harry. But before they could do anything, Harry - impressed with the synchronicity and discipline of their action - whipped his wand like a whip and a purple arc sped towards them. Each Auror cast the same shield as the arc impacted but the kinetic force of it exploded with the intensity of a bomb. They were flung backwards but Harry ignored them as another group of red dots on his mask alerted him to another threat to his wellbeing.

However, at that exact moment, Harry saw a familiar young women being dragged by four Aurors towards the lift. He ceased moving, his jaw falling involuntarily as he watched the young brunette – _no, it was blonde, always blonde_ \- struggle and twist within the Aurors' grasp, Travers dropped unceremoniously at his feet in a crumple of pain. Everything else was forgotten as Harry saw her for the first time since her death.

Domino.

She seemed to sense his gaze from behind the mask as suddenly her piercing, crystal-clear sapphire eyes locked onto the green orbs that were visible on the face of his mask. She looked at him with equal parts fear and confusion and Harry noted that she was dressed the same way as when he had first met her, only this time with her black fabric and leather-fabric jacket done up with the golden belt still undone. Gold heeled shoes, white fishnet stockings and a black fedora, she looked just as gorgeous as she had when Harry first knew her. Harry noticed her hair was brown, not blond as he was used to seeing it. Perhaps she had dyed it? It didn't matter as he almost called out to her, almost ran to throw out his arms to welcome her warm embrace, to smell the fresh, cinnamon scent that was locked in her hair, to feel her firm, lithe body pressed against his again-

Domino screamed.

Harry twisted around just in time for a tremendously powerful Banishing Charm to slam into his mask.

_Shit! Not the face!_

Harry seized Travers with blinding reflexes and cursed as he was thrown through the air like a rag doll, the charm having caught that spot of his armour by sheer chance. He landed with his own crunch on a wall above the fireplace, before he slid down and crumpled to the wooden floor. He still held Travers, though the man was nearing unconsciousness and was heavily delirious.

Harry groaned as he picked himself up, his mask pinpointing the person that had attacked him with a big red dot, causing him to swear violently when he saw who it was. Then he swore some more when he realised that his mask had now just fizzled out and was no more than a hunk of metal that covered his face and hindered his vision. He turned to the person who had attacked him.

Barty Crouch Senior. And behind him, Albus Dumbledore.

_Oh fuck no…_

Harry's eyes flickered around, seeing Domino frozen with the Aurors whilst he was looking for some sort of escape route just as Crouch boomed:

"Who do you think you are?!"

Harry saw that the fireplaces had all been sealed except for the one behind him. However, there was no way of getting to it; the distance between Harry and his escape route was too great. He'd be dead before he'd even reach it. But then he spotted the cans of aircraft fuel that he had left by the security guard's desk. They were still there. Rapidly, his mind formulated a plan, one that was almost suicidal and if he pulled it off without a hitch, would allow him to go. However, it would require perfect timing. Harry raised his hand to the mask, trying to find a point of leverage between which he could pry the damaged and useless mask from his face.

"I said, who do you think you are?!" yelled Crouch again.

Harry turned his masked face towards Crouch. All the man could see were two glowing emerald orbs that were situated where the eyes should have been. Harry's eyes flitted to Domino again. But he forced himself to think about escaping; he could deal with Domino later.

"A soldier of war." Harry answered clearly. His voice carried out in the dead silence of the Atrium. Squads of Aurors surrounded him, unable to touch Harry with Travers involuntarily shielding him. They all had their wands drawn and pointed at his face. Crouch was in front of him, fifty feet away with Dumbledore at his side. The elder wizard was looking curiously at Harry and Harry knew exactly what the old man was thinking.

Harry Potter.

"A soldier of war?" Crouch repeated incredulously. He opened his mouth to go further but before he could, Harry sheathed his wand and pulled out the Beretta in one move. Travers was forced to his knees and Harry placed the muzzle to the man's skull. Screams echoed out in the Atrium as Harry steadied his grip, but one voice was louder than all.

"Harry, no!"

Harry turned his head sharply towards the Headmaster, whose face was a picture of triumph and concern. Quizzical looks soon gave way to fear as people started to realise who Dumbledore meant.

Harry reached up and grabbed the damaged mask. With a wrench he ripped it off, exposing his face to all whom was there. Crouch was one of many who blanched, his face mingling with others in a sheet of white and as if on cue, terrified whispers broke out over the hall, one thought on every person's mind.

Harry Potter, infamous Knight of Walpurgis, traitor to the British people and the Dark Lord's right hand, was alive.

"SILENCE!" roared Crouch, trying to enforce some semblance of control and authority. Harry clicked the gun's safety catch with the noise acting as cover for the small sound.

"Release him Potter." Crouch ordered with a snarl. But the man's face was white, white with fear and terror and the sort of expression children wear on their faces when they are damned convinced that there really is a monster hiding under the bed. Harry smirked; he was Crouch's monster under the bed and most probably the rest of Wizarding Britain's too. Jade eyes stared at barely concealed fear-filled brown ones, and Harry decided to call Crouch's bluff and execute his plan.

Harry looked at Crouch steadily, before he raised the gun to shoulder height in a nonchalant gesture. Still staring at Crouch, he shoved Travers forwards, heedless of the man's cries. The man stumbled forward onto his knees, before righting himself and standing up. Travers gave an agonised, pitiful cry of relief, then turned around and faced Harry, cradling a broken arm, hate evident even through the hazy, pain-saturated gaze.

"Good…" Crouch breathed. He was still nervous, but he obviously felt he possessed control of the situation. "Now…"

And as Crouch turned to the Aurors, Harry shifted his body so as to hold the gun in the classic Weaver stance. He fired one shot directly at Travers, whose scream was cut off into a gurgle as a bullet passed straight through his heart, a fine red fine mist trailing behind as the bullet created a neat exit wound. Using the shocked non-reaction of everyone else towards his action to his advantage, Harry spun and ensured that the next shot was fired dead centre at the aircraft cans full of flammable fuel.

_Go ka-fucking-boom-boom!_

The cans exploded violently, an enormously powerful shockwave pulsing from the epicentre and rushing through the Atrium. And in the resulting confusion, Harry grabbed a handful of the Floo powder that was on display and yelled:

"Knockturn Alley!"

Looking behind, Harry caught sight of Domino's face, watching him in wonder, before he stepped into the green flames and disappeared with a flash.

* * *

Severus Snape stalked swiftly along the marble floor of the house the Dark Lord had given to him, situated in Berlin. Sometime ago, he had received a note from his 'other' master, as the man liked to phrase it, informing him of the horrifyingly damaging consequence-filled return of the Dark Lord's right hand man, his best lieutenant, his adopted son in all but name; Harry Potter.

Upon reading the note and taking a full quarter of an hour to absorb and digest that information, the first thing Severus had done was to reach for the biggest, strongest bottle of Firewhiskey that he had in possession and then downing straight from the bottle a good third, before drinking another third.

Then once he had awakened with the rest of the bottle spilt in his lap, accompanied by a headache lovingly created by the most wretched demons of Hell which was remedied by one of his many potions, Severus composed himself and then had proceeded to follow out the rest of Dumbledore's orders to the letter.

He had honestly thought that the Headmaster had finally once and for all lost total control of his mental faculties when he was instructed to alert the Dark Lord of Potter's miraculous, law-defying return from the grave, and return to Hogwarts within the week. Such a move could only be perpetrated by a complete dunderhead; in fact, if Snape didn't know any better, he would have seriously contemplated the notion that either Black or Potter had written this letter as a prank, despite his precariously perilous position as a spy. Yes, it would have been an entirely plausible speculation given the pair of little shits' unfortunate natural predisposition to acts of mass stupidity, except for one thing.

The signature at the foot of the parchment unfortunately said otherwise.

_Yours sincerely,_

_The Bartender's Brother._

And accompanying that, the dried streak of a phoenix tear.

The Bartender's Brother was a reference to Albus being the brother of Aberforth, the barman of the Hog's Head. Albus always signed his letters like that, enabling Snape to detect a forgery if there was one, so it was genuinely authentic.

Snape signed again. Sometimes, he really did sit down and ponder on whether the fact that every day that he was here, the fact that he constantly stood toe-to-toe with Death, sometimes it's skeletal digits ghosting across his cloak, whether or not this was all worth it.

It was during those times that he thought of Lily.

Yes, she had married the prize idiot known as James Potter. Yes, she had borne Potter four children. And yes, Snape and Lily hardly spoke each other anymore. But deep down, Severus Snape knew he still held the deep love and affection that had been present for the red headed woman during their adolescent years. And it was that which kept him fighting, kept him struggling, despite the bone-deep weariness that clung with an icy chill not unlike the Dementors' to his soul.

But naturally, thinking of Lily Potter née Evans led to thinking about the horrifying abomination that was her eldest son, Harry Potter. Whilst at Hogwarts, the boy had been a slightly above average student, admittedly, though in the class that Snape privately thought he was as good as his mother had been. Surprisingly, from the time that he had been around Potter in his Potions dungeon, he had found that the boy, although resembling his postural and wretched father greatly, possessed a disposition more like his mother's, a trait much echoed in his twin sister. That was not to say that Potter did not inherit certain behavioural patterns from his paternal side, an aggravatingly exceptional talent for humiliating others or 'pranking' as his thrice damned father and godfather laughingly called it being one, as well as a natural affinity for the broomstick being another. However, despite Snape's and James Potter's notoriously bad and bloodied history, Harry Potter had possessed a quiet respect for him, which was returned, for the one reason being that the boy had treated him as he should have done - as a professor and nothing more.

However, the Potion Masters' impression of the boy had altered itself drastically when he had pulled a disappearing act in his fifth year, only to show up explosively some months later by murdering the former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, in front of the entire annual Yule congregation in Diagon Alley no less. Ironically, the late Minister's Christmas speech had included a piece on the ongoing search for Potter. Snape's opinion of the boy turned man was now of a ruthless, bloodthirsty creature, a beast craving for death and blood and ever insatiable even when it revelled in carnage of the highest it had caused. Things had only got worse when Potter married Bellatrix Black.

Snape shuddered. If a worse pairing were possible, it would only be if the Dark Lord and Potter were both homosexual and attracted to one another. The unofficial Potter couple had been married by the Dark Lord in an unofficial and legally unrecognised ceremony. Then the terrible two, with a mind-numbingly devastating display of ruthlessness, sadism, efficiency and speed, had taken the remaining bastions of resistance in Europe by storm. Greece fell, Switzerland crumbled, and France sent an immediate surrender in response to Harry Potter singlehandedly laying waste to the city of Dijon in retaliation for injuries inflicted upon his wife by desperate French Aurors. Only Belgium and parts of the Netherlands and Spain remained standing alongside Britain now. It was a dire situation and one which was guaranteed to drag out for much longer yet.

It seemed that the Dark Lord's plan was now to expand eastwards once mainland Europe had been conquered and subdued. It was a logical move, and with the rate of Dark creatures, necromancers, and Dark wizards that were joining them, it was a vision that might well become a reality. Snape knew that the Dark Lord was making plans for forging an alliance with an incredibly, almost stupidly powerful necromancer that resided in the sweaty jungles of Vietnam, named the Shaman of Vietnam. With him allying with the Dark Lord's conquest of Asia and possibly the world might be possible. But with Harry Potter alive and most definitely to return to his position at the Dark Lord's side, world conquest was now almost certainly going to occur.

Whenever Snape had had to deal with Potter, either of them, his back was always up and he made damn sure his wand was never not on his person. They had fuelled each other's insanity to new, extreme heights and even for a man of his own calibre, Snape had still retched afterwards when he had to participate with one of them during an interrogation session of a prisoner.

But then the impossible had happened - Harry Potter was captured.

Severus was there at the trial, in disguise. The list of crimes, catalogued by the ever vigilant Amelia Bones, had shocked even him with the heinousness and length of it. Potter's eyes had met his own during the reading and although the boy had no idea that a fellow 'Knight' was in the crowd, Snape had been unable to repress a shudder that slithered like ice down his spine.

The long fight against the Dark Lord had levelled after Potter's death, with both sides reaching a sort of stalemate. During that time, Snape had been ordered to spend more time in Britain in his role as Potions Master at Hogwarts by the Dark Lord, with aims of gathering intelligence. He had only too gladly accepted, as it now placed him closer to the side he was truly loyal to, and away from the presence of the Dark Lord. However, he still went back to the Dark Lord's base once a fortnight to report back on how the Light side's forces were faring and the information he gave back was a mixture of truth and lies.

It weighed heavily on his conscience the number of men and women that had died due to his informing, but it had been necessary. A greater cause - a greater good - meant that they had had to die as collateral damage. Snape now just detached himself from the situations. Thinking about it would drive him mad... something that should have occurred a long time ago.

'_Death would be far more preferable and welcoming._' Snape mused.

The tired, weary form of Severus Snape slumped slightly, before the man regained his composure. Changing his clothes into stark black robes, he prepared himself to meet his evil master, Lord Voldemort. Snape strode down the halls towards the front door of his home, opened it, stepped outside and sealed his house with wards before he swept down the streets, his cloak slithering behind him.

Unbidden, a short phrase from his happier days with Lily when they were younger and he had told her about magic for the first time sprung to his mind. It had been her favourite saying at that time...

_'We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz...'_

Snape snorted softly, before apparating away.

Off to see the Wizard, indeed.

* * *

Harry Potter cut an impressive figure as he moved confidently through the dark, shadowed walkways of Knockturn Alley. His passage here via Borgin and Burke's only had a slight problem, with said problem having been obliviated, gagged, slapped around a bit before being rendered unconscious and hidden behind his counter. It was safe to say that the Dark Arts dealer's shop would be closed for the rest of today... and with any luck, maybe tomorrow too.

Passing a figure wrapped in a dark cloak, Harry swiftly made his way along the uneven cobbled street, ignoring the beings that stood alone or in groups, for in a place like this it wasn't necessarily guaranteed that they were all human. Tall and imposing buildings stood menacingly at unnatural angles, magic obviously being the only thing keeping them vertical. Harry saw that a group of five women were coming up on his left side, their eyes gazing at him hungrily. He was about to pass them when they converged upon him.

"Hallo, handsome." purred one who was evidently the ringleader. The others hung around her like wolves do around their alphas, though each and every one of their eyes were locked onto his body. He honestly wasn't surprised this was happening - before leaving Borgin's, Harry had cast Glamour Charms on himself, turning himself into an average brown-haired bloke of around his early thirties. Women such as these would obviously pounce on him, but that was part of the plan. He focused his attention on the women again as the ringleader spoke. "Fancy a little fun?"

Harry almost laughed out loud at her brazen audaciousness.

Almost.

Playing along, Harry looked at her body appreciatively, licking his lips as he did so. He noticed that her smile widened almost imperceptibly, greed for gold in her eyes.

"Depends on what sort it is." Harry answered teasingly, his Glamoured blue eyes meeting hers.

The women giggled aloud and Harry chuckled with them. Then he noticed the slight webbing between the ringleader's fingers.

Scratch woman. Try Selkie.

Focusing his attention on his and their magic, he noted that two of the group of five were full Veela, another was a vampire and the last was half human, half mermaid. Quite the motley group. He also felt the tendrils of Veela magic that were attempting to get him to succumb to their charms. The vampire stepped forward.

"Oh, definitely the sort that a man like you would enjoy." she whispered, her voice like honey, seductive and crooning. Then she leaned closer, long, pale fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket and holding tight.

Harry's fingers had already curled around the leather handle of his knife in a twisted mirror action to the vampire's own. Tensing slightly, he held in the urge to stab her as she went towards his neck and placed a featherlight kiss on his skin. However, the shock of the fact she hadn't sunk her fangs into him caused him to relax, fingers sliding from the knife.

Big mistake.

The Veela let loose the full force of their charm, their magic almost tangible as it ravished Harry's skin. The man himself was unprepared for the sudden burst of lust and did not raise his Occlumency shield in time. Desire flooded him and he groaned in longing as he felt another kiss from the vampire on his neck, her hand weaving it's way to his crotch, his eyes darting towards the Selkie and half mermaid as they both exposed their fully racked chests at him. A small, still-rational part of his mind was noting with admiration from a strategical perspective that they had executed this to perfection, perfectly ensnaring him in their wiles. That same part was also berating him for being so foolish and falling into their trap.

But that didn't matter as Harry's desire for release spiked to another level and this time his hands moved on their own accord, grabbing the firm arse of the vampire as she continued to caress his neck with loving kisses. He was barely aware of the Selkie telling everyone to move inside, his eyes closed as he felt warm hands coax and gently push him towards a door. Harry didn't resist, only wanting the pleasurable sensations of two mouths suckling his neck and a really good hand that was massaging his member to continue. The mob herded him towards a living room, and Harry complied. Once the Selkie had everyone inside, she closed and locked the door.

Then it all went south. Harry dreamily heard the hiss that emitted from the vampire's throat and his eyes snapped open. His mind cleared and his desire evaporated as he broke free from the shackles of unwilling arousal, clarity now reigning and he just pulled his body back, throat just out of range as the fangs of the vampire missed the skin above his jugular vein by millimetres, her jaw snapping shut. Harry noticed that both of the Veela had drawn very long knives as he violently grabbed the vampire's arm and twisted, throwing her off-balance before with a well-practised action, he swung her in front of the knife aimed for his head.

The vampire screamed as her arm was sliced cleanly from her body, the skin that had made contact with the knife boiling and sizzling like acid. Harry's hand found his wand and he fired a curse at the closest Veela, slamming his Occlumency shields in place as he did so. His mind now completely his, he smashed an unyielding fist into the face of the other Veela, before hitting the half mermaid that had attempted to sneak up behind him with a Incapacitation Curse, twisting on the spot with deadly accuracy. The injured vampire lunged at his arm, but stopped short when a gloved hand slammed into her nose, breaking it, to which she gave a cry of pain and crumbled to the ground, out cold from the shock of the sudden pain. Harry stood there breathing heavily for a moment, trying to regain his breath when:

"_Glurghk!_"

A thin wire had made its way around Harry's throat, and with horror, Harry realised that it was his own unbreakable wire that the Selkie had somehow taken. Knowing that his head would leave his shoulders if she pulled hard and fast enough, Harry's hands flew to his throat and he just managed to stick three fingers and a thumb underneath the wire. The Selkie gave a grunt of frustration as she felt his gloved hands intercept the gap between the wire and her quarry's throat and with a snarl she pulled harder.

By this time, Harry was a lovely shade of purple that had he been able to see his own face, he'd have recognised as adorning Uncle Vernon's many times when the obese man was excessively angry. His breathing was becoming more and more laboured and Harry could feel the edges of unconsciousness starting to enter from the corners of his mind. Gasping and spluttering, Harry fumbled, trying to stay alive, even as the Selkie pulled ruthlessly harder. His eyes saw that he had dropped his wand and it was lying three feet away, but he needed something now!

'_Fucking hell, this is it..._' Harry thought in a blind panic. His feet were now kicking involuntarily as his movements became more and more lethargic. The wire was pulled tighter, and Harry could feel it cutting into his glove, serrating the skin of his fingers. '_This is it... I'm gonna die..._'

He groped furiously for his wand, not realising that perhaps he could have just summoned it. Then, in the midst of the dull haziness that had hijacked his thoughts, a brilliant idea occurred to him:

The Battle Rod.

One of Harry's hands shot to his thigh as the other kept the wire at bay. He seized the smooth, ebony handle of the Rod, and held it up.

'_Expulso!_' he groggily said in his mind. Then he hurled the Rod over his head at the Selkie. Immediately cold, fresh air hit Harry's lungs as he felt the wire loosen. Scrambling to his wand, he grabbed it and spun on the floor, training it on the now-rising, groaning, fucked off Selkie. Harry watched in awe as, with inhuman strength, she ripped the Rod in half and crushed each part beyond magical repair.

"For fuck's sake, first the mask, now the Rod..." Harry muttered irritably as he flung a Bone Splintering Curse at the Selkie. She snarled in rage as she ducked, but Harry was ready. Drawing the Beretta in a flash, he fired one shot at each of her feet then with a flick of his wand, she was bound in ropes. He stood up slowly, surveying the scene around him. It was a total mess. Two unconscious Veela, one moaning now-one-armed vampire and an incapacitated half-mermaid.

'_A man walks into a bar..._' Harry thought dryly, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Rubbing his sore hand and throat, he padded towards the Selkie, fingering his wand in habit as he did so. She glared at him with baleful eyes, promising malice and hurt at the first sign of release. Twirling the aspen and phoenix feather combination, Harry bound the other four together and refocused his attentions on the Selkie.

"Okay... what we're gonna do here is very simple." began Harry, staring intently at the being before him. "I ask a question, you answer it, everyone's happy. You don't answer, or tell me a lie and I give you a slap. Sounds like a deal hmm?"

Harry had never been a fan of interrogation, but in his line of work, it had been necessary to sometimes rough someone up to get answers; Travers had been proof of that. There had been other squads with the Department of Mysteries' Special Forces that had been a lot more brutal than his own. Harry recalled a particular incident that his squad leader Pericles had told him, about a sadistic female metamorphmagus of another squad who had raped a male suspect in the forms of men, women and various animals in order to get information. Harry had actually met said female earlier on that week and had engaged in various activities over the course of a day that had been pleasurable for both parties involved. Having heard that news had left him feeling sick and tainted. Clearing his head of the disturbing thoughts of extreme interrogation, Harry went back to the situation at hand.

The Selkie remained silent.

Well, the good cop approach failed. Time to be the bad cop.

_Slap._

Harry watched in a detached manner as she moaned, her head rolling.

"I asked you a question."

He barely heard her answer.

"Yes... it does."

"Smashing!" Harry briskly exclaimed. "Now, first things first... why the little stunt back there?"

"We needed money."

"And trying to kill me would've got you it?"

"It usually works."

"Oh?"

"Men are gullible and susceptible to a woman's charm... and to certain actions."

Harry didn't miss the smirk in her tone. "Do you know who I am?"

"No."

_Slap._

"Bullshit. You're a Selkie. You can see through this disguise."

"Yes."

"So you do know me?"

"Yes."

"Why take the risk then?"

"Like I said, we needed the money."

"We?"

"The scam works better and is a lot safer when there are more of us. We trust each other."

"Except this time your 'scam' didn't work out, did it?"

"Obviously not. We didn't factor into account that a supposedly dead man who allegedly was trained in the Dark Arts by the Dark Lord would wander into our path."

Ignoring the sarcasm and disrespect, Harry changed tack and asked: "You lost one of your number recently didn't you?"

Harry watched closely as the Selkie bristled angrily.

Silence.

_Slap._

"Do you fucking mind?!"

_Slap._

"Do not swear at me. And no, not really, especially if it gets me answers."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes we lost someone recently. How do you know?"

Harry waited.

"Are you going to ask a question, or am I going to do all the talking?" the Selkie snarled.

_Slap._

The left cheek on the Selkie's face was now a brilliant, rosy red and she was glaring heavily.

"I ask the questions. Yes, I know. Women such as yourselves always congregate in groups of six. And don't fucking ask how I know that. Now, continue. Tell me her name."

"No."

_Slap. Slap. Slap._

"H-Her name's C-C-Cammie. C-Cammie Paige." the Selkie spluttered through tears. Harry's last three slaps had been very hard.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Brown hair?"

"Y-Yes."

"She wore a black jacket? And a fedora?"

"Yes..."

Harry stared at the bound creature before him before standing up abruptly, causing the Selkie to flinch away. His next question was barely more than a whisper.

"What happened to her?"

"The Aurors picked her up a while ago. Why?"

Harry suddenly spun and delivered a vicious backhander.

_SLAP._

The Selkie cried out in pain, but Harry had already entwined his fingers through her grass-green hair. He drew his knife and held it to her throat.

"I ASK THE QUESTIONS!" he snarled in her ear. Then he removed the knife from her throat and dropped her.

"Tell me more about her - Cammie. Now."

The Selkie took a deep, shuddering breath before she began her speech. "We found her about five years ago. She had been chucked out of her home; something about her parents having thrown her out. She was a half-blood, so she had no money of her own that she could claim from the Ministry. She couldn't go into the Muggle world - apart from the Muggleborns, who could? Anyway, she had been enticing men and then stunning them and stealing their possessions, which she then sold on to pawnbrokers."

"I suppose she told you this when she joined you?" asked Harry.

The Selkie nodded. "One day she got clumsy. She was stupid and made a mistake. When we found her, she was about to be raped by three other guys. We killed them and took her in."

The Selkie finished but Harry could hear the unasked question on her lips. Why do you want to know? He confirmed it by glancing at her, spotting the quizzical look and narrowed eyes. He sighed and chose a completely different topic.

"El Tejón. Where is he?

Stunned silence reigned, expected by Harry before the Selkie said a dumbfounded: "What?"

It was a legitimate question, so Harry didn't slap her though she flinched. After all, he had just asked for the whereabouts of Wizarding London's most notorious crime lord, one that even the Ministry was hesitant with fucking around with. Nonetheless, Harry turned around, menace and intent to cause pain in every movement. "You heard. Let's not play silly buggers. Where is El Tejón?"

The Selkie looked at Harry in a new way now. She showed no disrespect, no flippancy, only fear and respect. She took a deep breath.

"You know the boarding house The Silver Snitch?"

"You mean the whorehouse? Yeah, I know it."

"Ask the bartender there. He'll tell you."

Internally, Harry nodded. The Silver Snitch had been El Tejon's haunt in his own world; he had owned it there and it seemed he did so here too. Harry walked back over to the Selkie slowly and knelt down. He traced the sharp edge of the knife along the beautiful cheekbones of the female being, causing her to shiver in fear.

"And how do I know that it's not a trap, or that you're lying to me?" he murmured.

"I swear on my life and whatever magic I possess, that what I say is the truth..." she breathed back. A brief flash of white surrounded the Selkie at her words.

You couldn't get more honest than that.

Harry sheathed his knife and with his index digit, tilted the Selkie's head so his eyes locked with hers.

"Thank you..." he said. "For your cooperation. Stupefy."

The Selkie slumped, unconscious as the jet of red light hit her chest from where Harry had discreetly summoned his wand. Looking down at her in pity, he gave her lips a brief press with his own before wiping the memories of every occupant in the room. As an afterthought, he dug into his pockets and left a handful of gold on the table. Then he walked over to his broken Battle Rod and shrunk both parts before carefully placing them in his pouch. The sheath that had held it also went in. The wire also went back to its holding place.

He stood for a moment, thinking over what the Selkie had revealed to him. He fingered his wand without realising until he looked down. He smirked; old habits die hard. The War had scarred him in numerous ways, some unimaginable and Harry knew that a DoM psychologist would have a field day with him.

Harry gave the room one last, sad glance before turning on his heel and leaving.

* * *

The shadowed streets outside of The Silver Snitch were quiet, with just a small smattering of people outside, talking in hushed whispers. They ignored the passers-by and they kept it that way when Harry, in his disguise, walked straight past them and pushed open then old, ornately carved door.

The inside of the boarding house was poorly lit, and the smoke and dust were clearly visible drifting up in lazy spirals, highlighted by what little light streamed in through the thick, filth covered glass windows. It was a large, expansive area, with dirty, brown cedar floorboards. Equally brown tables dotted the floor like islands in the Pacific, surrounded by at least four chairs.

Medieval torches glowed with dull flames in the corners, flickering as they desperately tried to keep their fires alive. Patrons and boarders sat at the tables, and as Harry made his way towards the bar and the bartender who was watching him closely, he noticed that half seemed to be full. Glancing up, he spied another level above him, leading on from a set of rickety stairs that were situated to the right side. Prostitutes and drug and potion dealers hung about on those levels, and Harry saw that there were bedroom doors there. A few of the women winked at him, flicking their cigarette ash over the side of the railings that they lent on, cleavage on full display.

Harry gave them a wink and was rewarded with blown kisses and crude gestures as he headed over towards the bartender. The bartender seemed to be as old as the building itself, for he was almost bald, with thinning white hair. His eyes were squinting as he gazed suspiciously at Harry, the wrinkles on his aged face creasing. Gnarled hands carefully put down an empty glass and the filthy rag that had been cleaning it. Harry saw that the man wore old clothes, out of fashion and Muggle to the boot, just as the bartender splayed his hands out across the surprisingly clean bar surface.

_There!_

Right there, on the man's outer left forearm was a tattoo. More specifically it was a tattoo of a badger in front of a crest, that had the words '_Viva España_' on it and behind was a rifle and a wand crossed.

It was the insignia of El Tejón and his criminal, underground, and revolutionary organisation - Nosotrosolo.

Their name loosely translated as 'Ourselves Alone' with their motto being 'We Ourselves, Ourselves Alone'. In Harry's original world they were formed in 1939 when the Muggle dictator Francisco Franco forcibly took control of Spain, making them abandon their homeland when Wizarding Spain's Franco equivalent, Antonio D'Aroniz also seized power via military means. The revolutionary group's founder was El Tejón's father, one of a sizable group of Spaniards who didn't not agree with the coup d'état their country had suffered. Seeing that many others were of similar opinion to his, he had taken the initiative and had formed an insurgency force that had sought to liberate Spain. Leaning towards the radical political left, they had openly declared war on the far-right government of D'Aroniz. However, due to a lack of experienced fighters and the fact that many people were too scared to stand up to D'Aroniz, they had had to leave Spain, - permanently - until the time came that they could reclaim their home.

So, on a boat, and deciding which country to call home, El Tejón's father recalled an English friend who had once said that 'you'll always be welcome in London'. To London they had gone and Knockturn Alley they had made their home. Many years they waited, but D'Aroniz had still been alive and in power, with the worst thing being that he had been very popular with the people. Twice, Nosotrosolo had led a combat force to take back Spain, and twice they had been repelled. Their job had been made harder when D'Aroniz had gained a hero status from his valiant stance against the vampire clans that had been overrunning the country, but had been vanquished - which was where Harry had come in.

A low-paid, but extremely capable and heavily trained fighter, Harry had been too valuable a resource for El Tejón to pass up on. He found Harry one night wandering the streets of Knockturn Alley, drunk out of his mind due to the deaths of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and offered him a chance for vengeance... and some extra gold. With such an offer, Harry had taken the opportunity and the tattoo of Nosotrosolo.

As it turned out, it had been a very wise move. El Tejón had contacts all over the criminal underworld and knew contacts that could put Harry in a position to kill the people who killed his dearest friends. So, alongside his day job with Special Forces, Harry was an assassin-for-hire for a Spanish revolutionist, paid five thousand galleons per job.

Inevitably, the job to assassinate Antonio D'Aroniz had come about. Taking an illegal Portkey into central Madrid, Harry had first dealt with the Spanish Aurors that had come after him and then spent four days camping out on the side of a mountain, scouting the villa of the Spanish Minister. Those four days he spent recording the movements of D'Aroniz and his associates, who came and went and at what times. He had only taken his wand, a return Portkey, and his M27-IAR with just two bullets.

One for the head. One for the heart.

Once D'Aroniz had been disposed of, Spain had descended into chaos. Then El Tejón, leading Nosotrosolo, had stormed into Spain and restored order. A democratic election was held within the month and Spain soon stabilised, beginning the long road for recovery after D'Aroniz's reign. Harry returned to England and continued with the War, with El Tejón gifting Harry with two, incredibly rare goblin-forged katanas as a gesture of thanks.

However, El Tejón still made his presence known in London, and it was through his contacts that he was able to give Harry little tip-offs about the whereabouts of certain Death Eaters. Harry had supplied said information to the Special Forces, who had no qualms about his 'other' job, as long as it didn't affect his performance; in fact, they seemed to encourage it, as it kept his skills and reflexes sharp, and it was convenient as the deaths of problematic people were not linked to the Ministry in any way, hitting two birds with one stone as it were.

As Harry took more jobs from Nosotrosolo, he learned more and more about the organisation and its leadership. They were very much integrated in all of the UK's criminal underworld, both Muggle and Magical, but because of their tendency to eliminate rival organisations and keep a sort of peace, the Ministry often turned a blind eye to their activities. Indeed, the corruption of the Ministry had worked in the favour of the 'Light' side, as they had often covered up some of Nosotrosolo's more illegal actions.

In terms of leadership, El Tejón was the undisputed leader and he was greatly revered by his men. Respected, if a little feared, he had their absolute trust and conviction and they would follow him into battle, whether the odds were with or against them. Second-in-command was El Cerebro. El Cerebro was the planner of all missions and he and Harry had an easy-going relationship, laced with copious amounts of banter. El Cerebro was the humour to El Tejon's brooding seriousness.

Also, Nosotrosolo had links with their Italian cousins across the pond. Occasionally, when the War dampened down and there was no-one in the UK was in need of assassination, El Tejón sent Harry on loan to the Italians, his main contact being a former Nosotrosolo Spaniard who had relocated to America since he enjoyed the lifestyle there more, his name being El Mapache or as the Italians preferred to call him, the Rainmaker.

It was through the Rainmaker that Harry received a job that almost cost him his life. He possessed a myriad of silvery soul-scars that carved tracks thick and thin all across his torso, a legacy from his encounter with the man El Mapache had tasked him to assassinate - the Shaman of Vietnam.

The Shaman of Vietnam was an accomplished necromancer, and as such he had been the first foe to survive assassination by Harry, but not before leaving him with injuries that had almost killed the Special Forces operative. The Shaman had then involved himself with the War, siding with Voldemort and became the single greatest pain in the arse, bar the Dark Lord himself. Swarms - huge swarms - of Inferi, hundreds strong, had invaded the streets of Britain, causing devastation on an astronomical scale that previously had never been seen before. And there was the added side benefit for the Dark side that their opposition had to face the mutilated, hideously-deformed corpses of former friends and allies, a superb psychological weapon.

It had been the commander of Harry's Special Forces unit - the Death Squad - that had ended the Shaman of Vietnam's reign of terror with a bullet to the head from a Walther P99. Pericles had been a master with the small but reliable handgun. Wizards, no matter their power, still underestimated the effectiveness of Muggle weapons. Harry never did discover the Shaman's true identity, as upon his death, his body had turned to ash. However, it was one less evil to deal with.

But the reason Harry had decided to come here to this group out of people of everyone he could have picked was simple. In his original universe, El Tejón took you in if you could prove your worth to him. If you had a use and he could use it, you were in. Also, El Tejón was one of the few people that Harry could say that he could trust with anything and that the man was as honourable as they came. He would definitely be able to help Harry out with his problems, not least with the fucking creepy voice that kept invading his mind whenever his emotions were high. And lastly, El Tejón was a Seer, so there was a fairly good chance that when he saw Harry, he would realise who Harry really was.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry faced the bartender again.

"Buenas tardes. Una cerveza amarga fría y - si los tenga - unos frutos secos, por favor." Harry ordered.

"Por supuesto, señor. ¿Nada más?" asked the bartender.

"No, gracias. ¿Cuanto cuestas?"

"Once sickles, por favor."

Harry handed over the eleven sickles and waited for his beer and nibbles. Once they had arrived, he thanked the bartender and moved over to one of the tables in the poorly lit corners. It was only when he sat down that he realised that the patrons were sharing at him oddly, as was the bartender. Then Harry realised that he had slipped into Spanish because he knew that the bartender was Spanish. The other people there had expected him to speak English, so for him to suddenly start speaking Spanish was bound to raise a few eyebrows, given that he didn't even remotely look like he came from Spain or a Spanish-speaking country. Ignoring the stares and cursing his stupidity, Harry took a long drink, revelling in the cold feeling that accompanied the liquid that slid down his throat.

It was Budweiser. Harry gave a small smile. He'd been expecting San Miguel.

After a few minutes of sitting there and doing nothing, Harry grabbed a couple of nuts and popped them into his mouth, making sure to crunch loudly. Sure enough, it caught the bartender's attention, earning him a look of thinly veiled disgust. Harry crunched a few more nuts, before picking up his drink and sauntering over to the barman.

"¿Dónde está El Tejón?" he asked the man, scrutinising his reaction. The bartender gave a small jolt of surprise, and Harry didn't miss the sounds of chairs being pushed back behind him, nor the sounds of people standing up.

"Perdóneme señor, pero no sé quién es esta persona." the bartender answered slowly.

Harry got angry quickly. He knew that this bartender knew where El Tejón was, the Selkie had sworn on her life as much.

"¡A mi no mira! ¡Dígame dónde está El Tejón, su hijo de puta, o por el nombre de Dios juro que se dañaré!" Harry snarled.

The bartender quailed in fear and shrank back over the side of the counter. Harry went to lean forward and grab him when he felt a hand tap him on the back. Turning round, he saw himself face to face with two large, brutish men.

"¿Como puedo ayudarse señores?" Harry asked rapidly, eyes automatically scanning them, registering them as threats. This was about to get very fucking ugly.

"¿Hay un problema aquí?"

"¿Un problema? No, solo este señor no me diría dónde está el hombre que se llama El Tejón."

Harry watched as both men exchanged another look and that one of the other patrons had scurried off, to where he couldn't see as it wasn't in his line of vision. Besides, two hulking blokes in front of him getting ready to smash his skull in wasn't the sort of situation he'd let his attention waver from.

"¿El Tejón? Señor, quien quiera que sea, quizás sea mejor si salga y nunca vuelva. No está bienvenido aquí. Si no salga, luego habrá muchas consecuencias malas, las cuales no le gusta." the man on the right said.

"Pero no quiero salir. Quiero que hable con El Tejón ahora." Harry answered.

The man on the left suddenly got very angry and opened his jacket, revealing a small dagger and a sword.

"¡Me cago en Dios! ¡No me importa un mierda, su gilipollas! ¡Puta madre! ¡Vete a tomar culo! ¡Ahora!" he exploded and as if to make his point clear, he put his hand on the dagger.

Harry watched him warily before shrugging.

"Vale, vale, vale. Solo permiteme para terminar mi bebido."

The man on the right nodded, quashing the beginnings of protestations from the other man. Harry turned back to the bar and took a long draught from his drink, ignoring the two men standing behind him. Turning to the one on his left, he gave a small smile before spitting the contents of his mouth into the wizard's face. His right hand threw the remaining drink at the other goon, his left fist connecting with the left side man, now spluttering in shock and disgust, with a solid uppercut. Some of whores on the upper levels screamed and ran to the bedrooms as the fight broke out below them, probably the younger ones that had only been in the game a little while Harry mused. The others jeered and laughed, calling out degrading insults in Spanish and English, a few of the more brash ones dropping their drinks and then their cigarettes. Flames sprung upon from fire inviting alcohol, as the other patrons grabbed their drinks and hid, seeking to avoid the violent altercation. The left man was lifted off of his feet and landed heavily on a table, splintering the aged wood but Harry never saw him fall as he had already spun on the spot and hit the man on the right in five separate pressure points with lightning quick, well-aimed blows from the side of his hands, smashing into the soft flesh. The second man crumpled to the floor, the assault too quick for him to even begin thinking to counter, as Harry drew his Beretta from the holster strapped to his chest.

Then there was the sound of a gun being loaded behind him.

Harry turned and saw the bartender less than three feet away holding a shotgun with steady hands.

It was pointed straight at his bollocks.

_Son of a bitch!_

But that was not all. Eyes flickering rapidly around the bar, Harry found that dozens of other guns and wands were pointed at various part of his anatomy that he could not afford to or wanted to lose. A quick glance up revealed five other men on the upper floor, their own weapons aimed at his head.

Harry could totally imagine his former boss Sigma Seven's response right now: _'Not even you can get outta this fucking shit gringo! Better fucking saddle up and fucking comply with el hombre con la fucking gun before he blows your fucking knackers into sweetbread soup!'_

"¡Lo caiga!" the Spaniard shouted, gesturing to the Beretta in Harry's hand, his own hands still steadily holding the shotgun.

Harry complied and dropped his gun, raising his hands to shoulder height slowly, his eyes locked onto those of the bartender's. The bartender licked his lips nervously and Harry saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Then Harry saw a man of thickset build and small height step from the shadows behind the bartender, flanked by two cronies that fleetingly reminded Harry of the scenarios with the Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle at Hogwarts in his world. Puffing contentedly on an expensive cigar, a small tumbler of whisky in his hand and dressed in an expensive Muggle suit, his hair was thinning slightly, his skin bronze and showing signs of age, but there was an underlying strength, a sense of authority that commanded respect from all that came across him. The man that had ran off was jabbering in English to the man in the suit, who was El Tejón. Harry saw that El Tejón was irritated, even as the other man gibbered on.

"-but it's him! Sergio hit him with a Revealing Charm! I swear, it's him!"

"This better not be - whatcha call - some kinda windup. Chrissake, I'm in the middle of summat, this better not be a prank-"

Then El Tejón saw Harry.

Slowly, so as to not get shot up from twenty different guns and wands, Harry shook his left sleeve so that the tattoo on his outer left forearm became visible. El Tejón eyeballed the artwork - his own design- his eyes narrowing slightly as he did so, before they shot back to Harry.

Harry held the man's gaze as El Tejón looked at him with shrewd, grey eyes. Then the man that called himself 'The Badger' spoke in a low, gravelly voice heavily inflicted with a Spanish accent, though the tone was genial and friendly with no hint of malice or ill intent.

"Well, whad'ya know! Look who it is! The friggin' attic dweller's back from the grave! Si' down Mr Potter, an' we can have small talk like - whatcha call - civilised gentlemen, no?"


End file.
